


Somewhere Deep in the Dark

by EverlivingGhosts



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Crash Landing, Drama, Humour, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:43:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 81,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverlivingGhosts/pseuds/EverlivingGhosts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a routine flight through Russia, but the crew find themselves in an impossible situation. With a crash landing looming, will G-ERTI be able to perform? And Russia in the winter can be a cold, dark place...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The calm before the storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for not writing anything for ages- I have had an absolutely enormous amount of work to do for university and have had to concentrate on that. Since I've had an abundance of happy, fluffy fics I fancied something a little more dramatic, and this story was niggling in my head. 
> 
> I'm afraid once again you'll have to allow me a bit of creative licence on this fic, although I did try and do a bit of research! It was actually quite fun, even though I have a lot of respect for Martin for being able to sort through all the technical vocabulary. I hope you'll enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'm on tumblr if anyone fancies a hello!  
> http://thehappygnome.tumblr.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> Hi, I hope you'll enjoy this story!  
> I am currently in the process of Beta-ing this with the help of my lovely Beta SarahHaley, but please feel free to read! Some things will possibly change, but honestly it can only improve.

It had all started with a ferocious argument. Douglas and Carolyn were standing face to face, snarling at each other, and Douglas's voice cracked through the tense air like a whip.

 "Carolyn, I have told you – I am not doing it. I'm not taking another blasted trip across the hellhole they brand Russia after flying to and from the back end of Australia just last week!"

Although Douglas was much taller, it was surprising how Carolyn seemed to loom over him, blown up in her anger like a zeppelin filled with annoyance.

"Don't you dare presume to tell me what to do, Douglas Richardson. I have told you that you are going on a job, and that is final."

They had been going on like this for a while. Arthur stood at the back of the port cabin and twisting his homemade hat in his hands, shifting on his feet uncomfortably. Martin stood behind Douglas, trying his very best not to butt in. 

Douglas looked at the furious C.E.O incredulously."It's too big a job, Carolyn. I don't think I can bear another trip with nothing to do but wilt in the flight deck and listen to Arthur singing another round of 'songs he almost knows the words to'. We're still tired out."

But, as was her nature, Carolyn did not back down. "You will do it, you are going to do it, and you are not going to complain again. What do you think I pay you for? To complain? If you don't like it, then the door is there."

The threat hung in the air. Douglas ground his teeth, knowing that she fully well knew that he would not walk out over this. But for once, the First Officer knew he wasn't being selfish in the argument; he and Martin truly were still tired from the long and dismal flight last week. But despite this, he knew how much Carolyn struggled to find jobs sometimes. He was stumped. 

Douglas turned to Martin desperately, and even the onlooking Arthur knew that the situation must be worrying if Douglas was reduced to asking Martin to back him up. 

Martin, startled by Douglas's imploring look, squeaked, "Well, Carolyn, it is a bit rotten to spring this trip on us. Can't we just say no–" But he quailed under her furious look, a look which he knew had frazzled far stronger men, and reduced others to tears.

"I am not saying no to this trip – the customer has already paid, so my word is final. You two might not care, but I am trying to run an airline here and passengers are hard enough to come by these days without me having to refuse them! " Carolyn's voice had started out rather firm, and the more she spoke the more furious she seemed to become. ”If you want me to ring them up and tell them we can't do it – and end up losing thousands pounds in the process, I might add – then I shall do it. But please, feel free to use the time to get money from the other companies _just queuing_ for your employment."  

But the guilt trip had worked, and Douglas knew he was beaten. He grumbled a little but said no more on the subject. Glaring at Carolyn one last time, he made his way to G-ERTI and slammed the door behind him. 

Carolyn breathed heavily through her nostrils, staring at the door. The cabin seemed eerily quiet without her angry words permeating the room, and the other two stared at each other nervously, each wondering who would be the one to break the quietness.

Arthur moved tentatively forwards. "Um, Mum, are you-"

"Code red, Arthur. In fact, so much of a code red that if you don't all leave my sight _right now_ I am going to do something I very much regret." 

Arthur gave a little squeak and hurried out of the room. Martin didn't want to be stuck alone within grabbing distance of an angry Carolyn, so he followed not too far behind. 

It was a dull day at the airfield, cloudy and threatening rain, and this murky weather was making Martin relish the thought of the trip even less. Flying over the cold expanse of Russia might have been almost pleasant on a clear day – distance flights could be enjoyable when the wide  expanse of sky was visible. But it was certainly going to be a dull ordeal today. Sighing, he put his hands in his pockets against the chill. 

He could see Arthur outside of the cabin, a merry splash of red in the grey environment, as he appeared to have stopped walking on his way to G-ERTI. It was a common occurrence to find Arthur staring up at the aeroplane in happiness, but Martin suspected that this wasn't the emotion currently going through the steward's mind. 

Arthur seemed a little shaken up, and Martin knew why. They often niggled at each other at MJN and it was never all that serious, but the recent argument had teetered on the edge of being nasty, and Arthur hated being in situations when he couldn't cheer people up. 

The trip last week had been a long one, made even worse by the fact that it had been a passenger flight with a family with far too many children. The monotonous and dreadfully long flight seemed infinite, so the thought of having to do another long haul flight was daunting, to say the least. Thank goodness this wasn't going to be a passenger flight. But then again, that just meant they only had each other to torment. 

Martin tried to think of something to cheer Arthur up, as he felt that they were going to need a little cheeriness on this flight, but his mind fell blank.

"Err, Arthur?" He tried awkwardly for something to say.

Arthur turned around, surprised that Martin was talking to him. "Yes, Skip?"

"Are you, er, alright? You seem a bit…" Martin flapped his hands lamely, but Arthur seemed to catch his meaning, as only Arthur could. 

"Oh! No, no, I'm fine. I just don't like it when people argue. We shouldn't be mean to each other at MJN. You shouldn't argue with your family." Arthur said it simply, but the force of emotion lying behind the words was obvious. 

Martin had to smile sadly his words. At one point in his life he probably would have sniffed at the mere notion that MJN was anything like a family, but they were so used to each other, so aware of each others' personalities and quirks; could they be anything else? Despite the negativity of the situation, Martin felt a slight warmness as he thought of what Arthur had said.

They both proceeded onto G-ERTI, Arthur now humming lightly.  Douglas was stood in the cabin, moodily shoving his in-flight bag into the overhead locker as there would be no passengers on this flight, and before the shorter pilot could say anything Douglas slammed it shut and harrumphed into the flight deck, the door making a resounding crash behind him.

Martin was beginning to dread the flight even more because any flight that included an irritated Douglas was one-hundred times worse than any other. He would have to be on his guard in case his First Officer tried any tricks to alleviate his anger. 

Martin suddenly had a memory of their trip to Limerick and that ill-fated flight across Russia, and – although the memory was tinged with laughter and the image of Arthur trying futilely to play '20 questions' – Martin was still not looking forward to this trip at all. 

But he hadn't become a pilot so he could whinge, so he swallowed his doubts and made his way towards the flight deck, passing Arthur, who had settled himself in the galley. When he entered the small room, Douglas was huddled grumpily in his chair, muttering crossly under his breath.

"…utterly ridiculous, making us do this. Slave driving, that's what she's doing. Bloody Russia. Stupidly big and full of snow and a distinct lack of sushi..." 

Martin flumped himself onto his chair, grinning slightly at the grey cloud that wasDouglas. "I didn't know that Sky Gods got their knickers in a twist so easily."

"Don't pretend you're on her side, oh mighty Captain," Douglas snapped,"We're not going to be able to go to sleep for an obscenely long amount of time. And I shudder to think of what culinary delights from Arthur we are going to have to survive on."

"Dear God. We'll have to stay strong." 

And with that, Douglas's mood, although still a little tinted, brightened slightly.

 

*** 

 

It settled down to be a somewhat pleasant flight, all things considered. 

Carolyn had decided to have a slightly disgruntled nap. She did actually feel a little harsh, and she didn't like feeling in the wrong, even if it was only a little bit. But she felt that she was justified in accepting the trip, as the money was good and times were undeniably harsh. So she settled herself across two seats, ignored Arthur eyeing the seatbelt light, and settled to sleep. 

Arthur busied himself in the galley, rearranging the items in the cupboard even though he promised Carolyn that he wouldn't try and rearrange the food in order of 'fun-ness' again. After an hour and a half, he felt it was just about time to make the tea, so he went over to the kettle and turned it on.

Arthur seemed to have something of a tea-sense, being able to guess with a strange sort of accuracy when the two in the flight deck would want their cuppas. He supposed that made sense, after having served both of the pilots for so many years.

But, even after all this time, it still gave him a strange flush of pleasure when he entered the flight deck and saw Skip turn around eagerly to accept the blessedly hot beverage, his full lips parted in anticipation… Of course, Arthur enjoyed giving the drink to Douglas, too, but there was something subtly grateful about the way Martin received his drink. Somewhere in the back of his mind, hidden behind his happy thoughts, Arthur suspected that Martin probably couldn't be able to afford to drink a lot of coffee at his flat, which made him feel sad.

But today, he just concentrated on making the drinks perfectly. Well, as perfectly as Arthur could make them. It wasn't his fault that sometimes he thought food or drink could be improved with a little imagination, but he knew most people liked food in its intended form, so he acquiesced.

He carried both cups past a heavily breathing Carolyn and into the flight deck. Arthur secretly savoured the eager face as the Captain spied the coffee steaming from his carefully clenched hands.

Douglas, obviously much cheered up, stated brightly, "Ah, Arthur! Martin and I were just discussing how lovely it would be to have a drink. Has the mighty dragon gone for a slumber?"

Arthur blinked, slowly realising that he meant Carolyn. "Oh, Mum? Yeah, she's having a little nap."

Douglas took his cup and sipped, watching as Arthur's face crinkle up in concentration. "Is there something wrong?" He asked.

"Douglas, if Mum's a dragon…does that make me a sort of… baby dragon?" 

Martin spluttered on his coffee, and Douglas grinned widely. It was an amusing mental image; a sort of dragon Arthur, accidentally wreaking havoc with his claws and fire. 

Douglas's voice was carefully nonchalant. "Yes, I suppose it does. Then that makes me the dashing knight, I believe."

"Then what's Skip?"

Douglas didn't skip a beat. "The damsel in distress."

Martin frowned, pouting at Douglas and gesturing wildly to his sleeve, as if they all needed reminding. "Hey! I'm the Captain – if anything, I'm the knight!"

"So you say, Martin, but I believe I am the one who always saves you from sticky situations. And the Princess _certainly_ has the biggest hat..." 

Martin turned to the control panel, muttering something about how knights were stupid anyway, but Douglas just grinned with Arthur. Douglas turned to survey the control panel and to stare out at the bank of clouds visible below, and Arthur joined in eagerly, his eyes darting to look out of the flight deck window.

"So, where exactly are we going today chaps? Mum didn't, er, she didn't really tell me." 

The silent 'she was too busy shouting at Douglas' hung in the air, but they all chose to ignore it. 

Martin was the first to respond, as he usually did when someone had an enquiry that he could actually answer. "We're headed to Tobolsk, Arthur. It used to be the Capital of Siberia, I think."

"Wow! I've always wanted to go to Siberia."

"Arthur, it's got nothing to do with beer or bears–"

"Oh I know, and beer's nasty anyway – it tastes like old boots. I just think it sounds fun!"

"Arthur, if there's one thing we've learnt about Russia, it is that it's definitely _not_ fun,” Douglas chipped in exasperatedly. “Not to disregard a large and somewhat bloodthirsty culture, but I'll be glad when this trip is over. Thank goodness we only have those boxes to transport."

Martin turned to him, his voice a light teasing tone. "You're just bitter because you couldn't find anything to smuggle."

Douglas cocked an eyebrow and feigned an offended expression. "Smuggle? Moi? I hardly ever smuggle – I call it a friendly trade. However, I'm not trading because we're going quite far into Russia and I don't know many English speaking fellows this far in. Of course, I know a little Russian, but not enough to, say, successfully barter a half-ton of haddock."

Martin rolled his eyes at the revealing of yet another concealed talent of Douglas, who was still affecting a mock affront at Martin's words. 

Arthur exclaimed an impressed, "Wow! You know Russian?"

Douglas put on a fake show of modesty which fooled no one, pretending to look at his nails in a bashful sort of way. "Just a little. I find if you learn a bit of a language it can sometimes go a long way."

"Sod off. I bet you only know hello and thank you."

“Nonsense. In my youth I could order at least a double vodka, request seconds, and get directions to the nearest Russian beauty in one sentence. Knowledge has power, Captain. Learn well." 

Martin snorted, but couldn't think of a suitably snappy counter to this – that was woefully Douglas's territory – so he turned back to concentrate on the flying of the plane. 

Arthur also remained where he was, glad that the two hadn't suggested that he leave, as he loved being on the flight deck, staring out of the windows at the majesty unfolding in front of him. He also loved watching Douglas and Martin controlling such a large and unwieldy aircraft through the skies. 

Despite the fact that their customers usually considering them unprofessional and inappropriate, one could not deny that the two pilots had a certain power when flying G-ERTI. In action, they were no longer blustery Martin and sneaky Douglas – well, they may revert to those stages occasionally, but when they lay the jokes aside and concentrated on their jobs, they really weren’t anything less than magnificent in Arthur's eyes. 

He could have been bitter, having let his dreams of being a pilot fade when the examiner called out his name to ringing silence, but Arthur was truly eternally grateful that he could just watch these men do what they did best. 

Douglas obviously took to the controls like a natural, a Sky God in his element, but Martin was the one that transformed completely. When he forgot to act like the boss and stared out of the window dreamily, Arthur could clearly see a look of pure bliss on that usually terse little face. Whereas Douglas looked like he belonged in the sky, Skip lived in the sky. And Arthur was prepared to watch them, a plain little sparrow in awe of the eagles that truly belonged.

Eventually, Arthur decided that he should probably go back into the aeroplane cabin to check to see if his Mum had woken up – he thought it was horrible for anyone to wake up alone when people were just next door. He took the finished cups from the others and left the flight deck. 

Martin and Douglas seemed to shake themselves out of their reverie; the silence with Arthur had been a comfortable one, and his abrupt departure seemed to have woken them up. 

Martin cleared his throat in an attempt to appear more professional before speaking, “You haven't, by any chance, requested a weather report recently, have you?”

Douglas's voice was exasperated when it answered. "Martin, you've been with me the entire time. Of course I haven't."

"Oh, yes, I suppose that's right.” Martin could feel his face redden traitorously, as it tended to do when he got flustered. “Um, could you check, though? Where are we anyway?"

Douglas inspectedvarious readings and prepared the radio for communications with the ATC below, trying to deduce their exact location. 

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think we're close to a place called Yakutsk. I'll try and see if we can contact someone, though I'm not sure how close we are to major airports or airfields."

This confession made Martin feel slightly uncomfortable. Of course, before they had left, they checked the impending weather – it would have been foolish not to – but weather reports aren’t always accurate, especially in such unpredictable climates. 

Martin tried to detach himself from the feeling of panic that was creeping its way up his spine, but he couldn't help gripping the control panel rather tightly as he watched Douglas futilely try to get through to someone. 

Douglas's slightly incredulous air seemed to have given way to a frown; he had clearly thought the need for a weather report to be a trivial matter, but the longer he spent trying to contact someone with no response, the more his frown deepened. 

"Maybe they're just busy," Martin spoke quickly.

"…Yes."

"They could be on a break."

"What, all of Russia?"

"I don't know! Maybe we've just got a bad signal."

"Martin, the whole point of aeroplane technology is that bad signals are generally avoided," he explained slightly impatiently. "But you're right – we shouldn't panic. Let's try again a little later."

Martin nodded and stared down suspiciously at the innumerable clouds beneath him. Although he knew Carolyn would skin them alive for it, he had a slightly nagging feeling that they should land and sort out their bearings. Yet, if they couldn't make contact with anyone, then they couldn't land. Even though two halves of his mind were fighting viciously, Martin knew that the best option would be to stay on course and wait it out. Douglas, obviously having come to this conclusion before Martin, nodded in satisfaction as he saw that Martin was determined to carry on their path.

"Douglas?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Martin bit his bottom lip, his eyes flickering behind him. When he spoke, Martin’s voice was softly hesitant, which immediately intrigued Douglas. "Let's, let's not worry Carolyn and Arthur just yet. I mean, it could be nothing."

Douglas thought this to be a rather wise course of action, as a worried Arthur would be no use to anyone as there were no passengers that they could force him to 'help' in order for him to expend his frankly alarming amount of energy he seemed to create from being worried. Also, Carolyn would only be frustrated that she could do nothing. 

"I agree. Anyway, enough of this doom and gloom! How about a round of 'fruits and cities’?”

"Huh?"

"I found an apple in Seattle, a banana from the Bahamas and a kiwi from Fiji."

"You are on."


	2. Descent into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching aeroplanes is unusually fun, hopefully one day I will be an 'expert' like Arthur is ;D  
> Anyway, here comes the storm...

Two hours later, however, even word games could not dissipate the worry that permeated the flight deck. After the word game had run its natural course – natural being Douglas blasting to victory – they had continually checked the radio. Not one station yielded any results.

How could every single airfield be unavailable? 

They had to conclude, in very worried and hushed voices, that G-ERTI's radio system had finally given up the ghost, or that somehow all of Russia was having some sort of aviation-related malfunction. G-ERTI seemed the more likely culprit, but they loathed to pin blame on the usually reliable, if somewhat less-than-perfect aeroplane. And what was infinitely worse, Douglas had pointed out a definite change in the cloud pattern and a slight indication of ice forming on G-ERTI's windows.

"Snowstorm,"was all he could say, rather grimly. 

Martin stared at the treacherous clouds in panic, their grey roiling mass seeming to match the beating of his heart. 

Aeroplanes were well equipped to fly in snow; how else would places like Russia be able to have aircrafts? It was actually having to land in the snow that was a tricky endeavour. Of course, landing in a snowy airfield was fine as long as the landing strip had been properly prepared and de-iced to receive the aeroplane in question, but they could not contact the ground to get these preparations started. Even if they somehow managed to locate an airfield to receive them, it still meant that they had to land on the unprepared, icy runway, where was the danger of skidding and losing control of the aircraft. 

Douglas wanted to be confident and assure Martin that he would be able to guide them through a silly snowstorm, but even the rugged old sky god knew there were moments where seriousness had to be considered and all lightheartedness put away.  To laugh at the storm would perhaps fool Martin into thinking he wasn't worried, but Douglas knew that as Martin's colleague he had a duty in a dangerous situation to be truthful.

"This could be bad, Captain. Very bad indeed."

Martin absorbed his stark words with a solemn air, wondering what their next course of action should be. He supposed that the others deserved to know what was going on, as not informing them of the situation would be cruel and cause unnecessary strife. 

"We've got to tell them, Douglas."

Douglas heaved a sigh, knowing that he was going to have to put on a heroic amount of bravado to ensure that the two in the cabin didn’t panic. Although he would not admit it to them, he was a trifle worried, but he knew how much the others depended on his confidence. He might be sneaky and mean sometimes, but Douglas knew that even the mere power of his voice could soothe a worried person, something which he had abused for as long as he could remember. Martin might know his facts and figures which could in a way be comforting, but Douglas inspired _confidence._ And they would all be needing that before long.

He spoke into the loud speaker, "Carolyn? We need you in the flight deck." When she didn't immediately respond, Douglas repeated himself louder and with more urgency.

Arthur, who had been pottering around in the galley and making small piles out of used coffee beans, went over to the prone figure of Carolyn and prodded her lightly, standing far out of grabbing reach, something he had learnt from hard-won experience. 

"Mum? Mum, you need to wake up. Douglas is calling you and his voice sounds a little funny, like the time that security guard spotted the geranium poking out of his sleeve pocket."

"Can't I just get a little rest?” Carolyn stirred, her voice sounding a little put out. “Fine. I'll go and see what the dunderheads want this time."

But, when Carolyn entered the flight deck, already fully preparing a tirade about respecting the elders and betters, even she could detect the frisson of panic evident in the usually lighthearted atmosphere. 

She frowned at her pilot’s unusually solemn faces. "Douglas, Martin, what's going on?" 

Martin eyed Arthur, who was hovering in the doorway not wanting to be rude by entering the flight deck un-summoned but all the same finding himself too curious to leave. 

Douglas explained the situation to Carolyn, and for once, she allowed him to talk uninterrupted, completely rapt. 

When he had finished, Carolyn drew herself up. "So. We're currently hovering somewhere above Russia with only a rough indication of where we actually are and no way to contact anyone on the ground?"

"Yes."

"Meanwhile, there is a potentially harmful snowstorm brewing beneath us, one which we cannot avoid? 

"And the longer we stay in it, the worse it will be when we are forced to land." Douglas explained.

She closed her eyes at these words and heaved a heavy sigh through her nostrils, but didn't descend into anger like they thought she might. It was a strange but marvellousquality of Carolyn's; she may seem harsh and unyielding, but when faced with panic, the C.E.O was steadfast and quick thinking, utterly refusing to go to pieces. 

She turned and stared Douglas directly in the eye, and unlike in their argument earlier, now she was regarding him as a comrade rather than an underling. "Is there any point in trying to continue our course as planned?"

"We could try, but being unable to pinpoint our exact location means that Martin and I can only hope we are going the right way. I have confidence that we should be able to manage it, but it isn't going to be easy–"

"Chaps?" 

Carolyn and Douglas jumped at Arthur’s voice, not realising that he had been listening in the doorway.

"Yes, Arthur?" Carolyn looked a little annoyed at the interruption of their important conversation, but Arthur's tone had sparked off a small sense of unease in her stomach.

His voice was unusually hoarse and unsteady. "Why…” He extended a shaking finger towards the dials, causing everyone to follow where he was pointing.  “Why is that little, red fuel gauge light flashing?" 

The small glow lit up the dashboard with intermittent red flashes, seeming to beat a warning in time with the fevered thrumming of their hearts.

A foggy panic clouded at the edges and threatening to overcome Martin’s reasoned and composed mind as the meaning of this almost innocent looking light filled him with a slow horror. 

He turned to face Douglas, seeing on his pale face that he understood perfectly what it meant. Still, Martin forced the words out."Douglas…that's, _oh god,_ it's the fuel gauge light…"

They locked eyes, an unspoken understanding rushing between them.

There was a whirlwind of movement as Martin and Douglas threw themselves towards the ominously flickering light nestled innocently between numerous other buttons. 

"We're losing fuel.” Martin's voice was desperate, conveying his utmost and all-encompassing horror. “ _How_  are we losing fuel?" 

Douglas ran a hand through his hair frantically, his brain whirring nonstop, trying to view the situation from all angles. "There must be a leak. Or a fault."

"Oh god, what are we going to do? If we lose the engine–"

"Martin." Douglas's voice was sudden and strong. He gripped the shorter man's arm firmly, as if to steady him. Panicking was not going to help; he had to make Martin see that. The Captain had managed to keep a clear head in the St. Petersburg fiasco, so Douglas knew he could depend on him here. 

"We are not going to lose the engine. We've seen that light cry wolf enough times to know that there’s a lot more fuel than it promises. I know–" He cut into Martin's protests swiftly, "I know that she could be telling the truth, but we need to keep ourselves calm regardless. We're going to have to…" He took a deep breath and turned to the rest of the crew in turn, trying to convey strength to each of them in turn. "We're going to have to land her." 

The enormity of the situation sunk slowly into the mire of their clogged brains. They were stuck in a drastic situation,caught between the danger of flying with no fuel and the danger of landing in a snowstorm. But they all knew that the risk of flying on empty fuel was too dangerous, whereas landing now would erase this danger, despite the fact they had no idea where they were. They were caught between two bad decisions, and one had to be chosen. 

Martin wanted so much to ignore the light, to press on and avoid their imminent, terrible meeting with the ground. But for once, his hard-won training kicked in. 

He reached for some hard copies of maps that were stored in a drawer in the flight deck. Jabbing his finger at the map, he spoke, "Is there any way you can try and gauge our coordinates, Douglas? There has to be an airport, an airfield,  _somewhere_  where we can land at least a little safely."

Arthur couldn't suppress a shiver as Martin's voice became deeper, more authoritative as he tried to assert control. He sounded like a proper captain. It was almost funny how Martin could manage to achieve what he most wanted, even when he didn't realise it.

Carolyn and Arthur could only watch as the two pilots poured over the equipment and the maps together in unusual harmony, and after a few minutes of circling and crossing out, Douglas looked slightly triumphant, despite the still glowing red light flickering in the corners of all of their eyes.

“I think – and I don't for a second doubt our abilities – that we are near the charming place of Oymyakon."

"Charming?” Carolyn's voice cut in as her eyes roved the map without much enthusiasm. “It looks like it's in the middle of nowhere."

"Yes, I think it lacks the aesthetic qualities of the more well-advertised cities of Russia, but it is charming for one reason. If my history lessons serve me correctly, I seem to remember that they have an airfield here that was built during World War II."

Martin stared at him expectantly, but he was still unable to hide a slight scepticism which crept into his voice."World War II? Do you think it's still functional?"

"I can't imagine it will be manned, considering it was built for ferrying Americans – and we all know about the beautiful and long-lasting relationship between our Russian and American friends. It probably won't be in very good shape, but anywhere actually designed to withstand the arrival of a beast like G-ERTI is a godsend in this situation." 

They resumed their talks of a plan of action, and as she and Arthur could not offer them any help or advice, Carolyn felt it was time to leave them to it. She nudged Arthur towards the door. He looked startled when she first urged him to move, but he quickly followed her into the cabin.

When the door snapped quietly shut, Carolyn turned towards her son, her own face turning grave as she noticed how his usually bright face had gone pale with anxiety. She knew that now was the time to use her 'Mother' voice, rather than her 'Mum Boss' voice in order to ensure that everything ran smoothly. Arthur looked at her with large, green eyes full of fear, and Carolyn knew that she mustn't appear frightened or it would make him worse. Hell, Carolyn could feel panic clawing at her mind, but the Arthur in front of her somehow looked like the small and frightened boy she'd had to comfort in the past, and she _hated_ the thought of him being scared. It didn't matter that he was an adult now, he needed her care.

"Arthur? I need you to help me secure any loose items before we put our seat belts on, okay?"

Her unusually gentle voice, the voice she only used for Arthur, served to calm his roiling thoughts. He was glad that she had suggested they partake in a task so that it could distract him further from worrying.

"Yes, I think I'll go and put the coffee making things away, because we don't want them to roll around on the floor and trip us up or… or…Oh! Even cause a stain! We've run out of stain remover since that customer threw her shepherd's pie at me." 

Carolyn smiled grimly at the memory. She had been quite surprised that Arthur had managed to scrub the last vestiges of potato and gravy from the seats and was glad she hadn't even had to try.

"That's my boy. We should hurry – I don't think the others are going to be much longer."

That had always been Carolyn's way of dealing with things – if she couldn't control something, then the only way of avoiding wallowing in self pity was to only be a part of things which she could control.That was one of the reasons why, after her failure of a marriage with Gordon, she had embarked on her doom-laden mission of becoming a CEO of her own company. She kept herself busy, managing to block most of the bitterness through pure hard work.

She knew that the real panic would happen when she had to sit Arthur down away from the flight deck, as it would be frightening for both of them to wait apart from the others, only being able to know if they were safe if the landing was successful. However, even though she had never told them, she trusted Douglas and Martin to guide them safely. This trust had only been solidified after their majestic get away from the bird strike in St Petersburg. She trusted her life and, more importantly, Arthur’s life in their hands; it was the highest praise she could give them, and although it was wordless, she hoped they had an inkling of this understood.

Meanwhile, up in the flight deck, Martin and Douglas were still calculating, still deciding on the best course of action. 

Martin was caught in a storm of indecision, desperately wanting to take the landing, but knowing that Douglas was the more experienced pilot. This wasn't a petty feud, oh no – he thought it would be wise for him to take the helm so that Douglas could advise him in that strong and steady way of his. Martin was confident that he would be able to follow Douglas's orders to a tee, but what if he made a mistake? What if his sloppy landing killed them all?

Douglas, for once, looked at him kindly. "I can take the landing, Martin. There's no shame in it."

But Martin shook his head, dearly wanting to make Douglas understand without seeming precious or stupid. "No, I – I think I should take it."

Douglas raised his eyebrows at the Captain’s vehement assertions. 

Martin, spotting his expression, countered furiously."No, I'm not trying to prove anything. I just think you could advise me better about the conditions than I could you. I… I trust you, Douglas."

There was a ghost of a smile on Douglas' face – for all of their bickering, he and Martin understood and respected each other a great deal more than either of them let on. Perhaps earlier on in their acquaintance, Douglas would have refused to let Martin take such a potentially dangerous landing, but after seeing him grow and learn from his mistakes in that blustery way of his, he was confident that Martin was up to the challenge.

"Thank you, Captain. Should we begin the descent?"

Martin cast a cursory glance over the instruments and nodded. 

Douglas reached for the intercom and rumbled in his most impressive voice because, well, _why the hell not?_ , "Good day, passengers. We are soon going to begin our descent into what I am fairly sure is Russia, and I must warn you to keep all hands and legs within the aircraft, to hold onto your hats and loved ones, because…” his voice growled, “this is going to be one _hell_ of a bumpy ride!"

The last rumble of Douglas's voice died out, leaving the cabin in an ominous quietness. Perhaps it was this break in the tense atmosphere that affected him so much, but Arthur suddenly felt like he could not sit still. Arthur sprang from his seat next to Carolyn and ran full pelt toward the flight deck, shouting, "Wait! _Wait_!"

Martin and Douglas were so wound up with the tension of the impending landing that the crashing of Arthur through the door nearly made them jump out of their skins. 

Arthur hadn’t meant to scare them, but what if something went wrong? If they… well… what if they didn't….he couldn't think about never seeing them again. So just in case, he felt he needed to say something. 

But could he say to people with whom he had spent every day when all that he wished to say remained unsaid?Arthur wanted to believe that they would be okay, so he didn't want to say goodbye. 

Slightly breathlessly, he turned to his First Officer. "Douglas, good luck."

Douglas grinned at the praise and inclined his head, glad that Arthur had chosen in his spontaneous way to come in and cheer them up, to bolster their spirits. 

Arthur floundered for a moment, trying to sort out the tumult of emotions in his head, each one fighting for dominance. 

Martin looked up curiously, as the steward was practically thrumming with energy. His eyes widened as Arthur darted forwards and engulfed his small hand with his own larger one, staring down at him with a searing confidence.

"And don't you worry, Skip. You're going to be absolutely brilliant."

Before Martin could barely splutter a ‘thank you’, Arthur had launched himself back towards the cabin. 

Martin's eyes met Douglas's, and he tried to ignore the highly amused glance than lingered there. 

“We, er… We had better begin, I suppose."

And with that, the slight air of amusement dissipated and was replaced with clear and burning focus. Just like in St Petersburg, Douglas and Martin sloughed off their feuding and unprofessional airs and slipped into a skin of utter concentration. Aviation-related jargon was exchanged with ease as they checked the pressure gauge and various other implements, each confident in the others assessments. 

Soon enough, it was time for the actual descent, and with Arthur's assurance ringing sweetly in his ears, Martin gathered his strength and grabbed the control column. Douglas fed him information, pressing appropriate switches and speaking calmly, clearly. 

As the plane bean to tilt, the threat of snow became unmistakeable. The lower they went, the more they could see white whirling through the front window, a maelstrom of ice heralding their landing. Martin’s first landing in a snowstorm, and he was doing it without knowing if he was going to hit an actual runway. If they had miscalculated and landed on the snow, it might provide something of a cushioning, but there was a high chance of a mighty collision which could only lead to the destruction of the plane. But it was either risk this, or fall out of the sky through lack of fuel, and Martin knew they were doing the right thing. But still, he guided the plane with a heavy heart, which was plummeting faster than the aeroplane through the storm. 

The blizzard resulted in a buildup of turbulence throughout the descent, and strapped tightly though they were in their seats, Arthur gripped Carolyn's hands tightly, just as he had done as a little boy when he had ever felt worried. She was surprised to see that no tears were forthcoming from him, but Arthur was diligently staring towards the flight deck as if he could transfer his hope onto the two fighting pilots thought pure force of will. She didn't want to admit it even to herself, but Carolyn was glad that she had something, _someone_ to hold onto.  

In the flight deck, Martin had begun sweating, he was concentrating so hard. He flickered his eyes towards the altimeters, his voice strained. "Douglas, I think we're almost at the ground. I need you to tell me when to put on the brakes."

Douglas nodded but didn't say a word. He was staring intently at the dials, the window, drinking anything and everything in. 

Martin waited. The plane dropped hundreds of more feet, but no answer was forthcoming. He could almost feel it, the solid, destructive earth looming, ready to accept this feeble machine that had dared to leave it. He knew they had to time this right, but the tension was proving too much.

" _Damn it_ , Douglas!"

"Martin, trust me!"

So, biting his lip intensely, Martin waited for an agonising few moments before he heard a bellowed, “ _Now!_ "

Ungraciously, so ungraciously, G-ERTI slammed onto the ground, her wheels skidding and slipping over the snowy surface. Martin had slammed on the breaks but they were spinning – _oh god,_ they had failed, they were going to crash he could feel it, he could feel the metal tearing and opening and they weren't going to make, god, they weren’t going to make it, and–

G-ERTI had stopped spinning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I clicked some buttons and somehow the layout seems to be 100 times better! I will investigate and hopefully try and continue to make this easier on the eyes XD The airfield at Oymyakon does actually exist, as I happily found out, but I'm not sure how reliable that information is. The wonders of the internet, eh?


	3. The trust we share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that certainly was a bumpy landing! Poor MJN- they don't have much luck in Russia do they?
> 
> Also, every kudos, comment and view is really very much appreciated :D

 

The screech of the tyres, the sound of a huge amount of metal complaining against its unceremonious return to the ground had ceased. There was nothing but a deafening silence. 

A fog seemed to have settled over Martin's mind. At first, he was only aware of a pain on his torso where his seat belt had cut into him as it tried to prevent his body from being flung into the ether. Then, he heard a ragged breathing in a chorus with his own. He looked over briefly to see Douglas, unusually ashen faced but fortunately not ripped to shreds and dangling from the wreckage. 

Martin tried to think, tried to remember what exactly had happened as their faithful aeroplane had collided with the ground, but all he could summon was a groggy blackness and feeling of pain; his body _ached._ Every movement felt so strange. His hands shook and felt like leaden weights as he tried to take off his seat belt, fumbling and cursing, and the relief at finding himself relatively unscathed was giving way to a slow sense of dread. Martin could still feel the adrenaline that their reckless downward plunge had inspired, and it was making him feel jittery and uncomfortable, and he felt starved for some form of comfort in this hazy situation. He turned towards Douglas, his mouth dry and unable to produce any intelligible sounds.  

The First Officer had his eyes closed, and Martin was treated to a hoarse but still rumbling, "We made it."

They peered at each other, both engulfed with how completely surreal the situation was, and Martin laughed; once he had started, he couldn't stop. Douglas joined in with his own booming guffawand even though they were both strapped in tightly, they were almost doubled up with mirth.

"Oh, oh, we made it! Douglas, we made it!"

"A magnificent show!"

"Didn't you say a good landing was one you walked away from?"

"And a great one when you can reuse the plane!" 

After a few moments, their laughter died out and they basked in the sheer incredulousness of their survival. When the St. Petersburg fiasco had happened, they had been frightened, but that had been a much more controlled landing; this one had been full of panic and the knowledge that anything could go wrong. They both knew that aeroplane crashes were statistically unlikely, but to have survived two? Filled to the brim with this knowledge, they could both feel a certain sense of pride, a feeling that perhaps they were not as hopeless as everyone else in the aviation business had made them out to be. 

But, the feeling of joy and confidence did not last, as it never did. Gasping in the aftermath of their laughter, they both remembered with an almost simultaneous widening-of-eyes that they were not the only people who should be celebrating the landing. The reality of the world came crashing down.

Martin turned frantically to Douglas. "Oh, god. We need to check on Carolyn and Arthur!" 

Douglas looked horrified that they had forgotten about the other two and quickly undid his buckle, wincing as he lifted his bruised body from the seat. Like Martin, he luckily had not sustained any life-threatening injuries, but he had been as equally damaged by theerratic movements of the plane.  

Martin looked over at him in sympathy. "You alright?"

"Oh, nothing too bad. Just a few bruises, I think. I might ask Carolyn to invest in some cushions for us, if my poor and batteredderriere is anything to go by." 

Martin chuckled for a moment and eased open the flight deck door. However, his chuckle was soon cut off by the sight unveiling before him. Carolyn had moved out of her seat and was bent over Arthur‘s unnervingly still figure in clear concern, her outline blocking the steward from view. 

Ice flooded Martin’s stomach. He leaped out of his seat and hurried to her side. "Carolyn? What's going on…Oh my god–" 

Carolyn had moved slightly away from Arthur, and the pilot could see his face clearly now, covered in blood and horribly, horribly vacant. She shook his shoulders in desperation, trying to entice his still form to wake up. 

Hearing the commotion, Douglas hurried over, violently ripping a napkin from one of the chairs and holding it out towards Carolyn as he did. "Carolyn, what the hell happened?"

She took the napkin from Douglas and tried to wipe some of the blood flowing from Arthur's face. "I think something was wrong with his seatbelt,” she began, her voice brittle and full of anguish. “When we hit the ground, he flung forward and hit his face on the seat in front of him.”

Now that his attention had been drawn to it, Martin could indeed see patches of blood on the seat directly in front of Arthur. 

"I hope to god that he hasn't broken his nose. I don't think our pitiful first aid could cope with that," Carolyn continued worriedly. She tried to move her son’s head from where it was currently lolling against his chest, but Douglas made a point to stop her. 

"Don’t. We shouldn't move him until he wakes up and can tell us exactly where it hurts. He might have whiplash or something worse, and it could do more harm than good if we move him now." 

Carolyn made to protest, but she knew that his words were wise, so she just took Arthur's hand in hers, not caring one jot if the others saw her being 'soppy'. 

Still, it was utterly distressing to see Arthur's usually grinning face slack and unmoving, the scarlet blood juxtaposing horribly with his pale, ill-looking skin. Martin moved a little closer to see if he could help, but he gave a little grunt as his shoulder twinged. 

Douglas cast a critical eye over him."Martin, are you okay? Did you get hurt too?"

"The seat belt dug into me, but it's fine I'm sure–"

"Martin, don't try to be a hero,” Douglas stated in a firm voice. “It will do us no good if you downplay your injuries. We're all going to have to be on guard if we're going to survive being stuck here." 

Suddenly, Douglas' words seemed open a cavern in Martin's mind. Survive? He had been so caught up in trying to endure the landing that he had nearly forgotten that they were stranded in the middle of barren, sub-zero Siberia. 

This seemed to have a similar effect on Carolyn, as she stiffened and turned to her First Officer. "Douglas, what are we going to do for food?"

A bitter laugh was the only initial response. When Douglas finally answered, his voice was laden with frustration. "Oh, I don't think we're going to make it long enough to worry about food. Do you know how cold it can get in Russia in January?"

The horrible truth sunk in like a poison, permeating their minds and filling them with dread. 

Martin spoke up, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears, "But, surely we'll be fine inside G-ERTI?"

"We’re fine for the moment, as we have the heating on. But we have a mysterious fuel leak, remember? Our fuel is limited, and thus, so is our heat."

Every word seemed to stab them, and Martin's head was filled with the terrible image of them all freezing to death, clinging futilely to G-ERTI as if she were the last vestige of hope in this terrible snowstorm, and no-one caring if they never came back. 

Douglas opened his mouth again, possibly to let loose more vitriolic assessments of the situation, but Carolyn spoke ahead of him. "That's enough, Douglas. We've got enough on our plates for the present without scaring ourselves to death. We need to concentrate on patching each other up for now. Then we shall discuss what to do."

Douglas looked like he very much wanted to disagree, but he elected to keep his mouth shut for once. They all settled on watching Arthur, waiting for a flicker of awakening in silence, all desperately wanting that sweet face to break into a smile. 

It was strange how often they all complained that Arthur's constant cheeriness was irritating and unwanted, yet in horrific situations like these, his positive perspective could be a soothing balm. To have Arthur's face as pale as theirs, to have him sat there unmoving and inanimate was difficult to bear, and for some strange reason 

Martin felt the urge to wake Arthur up, to hear that cheery voice proclaim that he was alright really, and that no one should worry about him. They had all been so incredibly fortunate not to have been affected too badly by the landing, and it seemed like an injustice that poor Arthur was the one who had been the worst hit. Martin hoped against hope that Arthur wasn't going to be drastically injured. They were all going to have to work together in order to get through this ordeal, and the idea of Arthur being hurt because of him made him feel absolutely awful. Of course, Martin had been trying to save Arthur's life, but looking down at the steward’s bruised face, he sure didn't feel very heroic. 

He bustled towards the galley in search of water that they could try and revive Arthur with, but he could only find a small and almost empty bottle next to the microwave. When he brought it back, he handed it to Carolyn, who reached to unscrew the cap, when Arthur shifted. It had been so very slight, but they had all seen it. 

Carolyn tossed the water bottle onto the seat next to Arthur and put a hand on his forehead, brushing an errant curl away from the blood. "Arthur?"

A faint crease appeared between Arthur's eyebrows. His eyelids flickered. After a few moments, his soft green eyes were staring back at them, slightly befuddled. The two pilots drew in a little closer. 

"Arthur? Are you alright?" Martin asked, suddenly aware that his voice had gone very, very soft.

Arthur seemed to be struggling to speak, and when he opened his mouth, Martin could see blood on his lips. This startled him, but before he could ask how that had happened, he heard Arthur's voice hover thickly in the air. 

"Hah. I–I uh, I knew you could do it."

Carolyn looked worriedly down at him, inspecting his mouth. "Arthur, what on earth–"

"I think I've, ah, bitten my tongue. 'S not too bad, really." 

Relief flooded everyone’s mind. A bitten tongue was obviously still a painful injury, but he wasn't as battered or as senseless as they might have feared. 

Arthur shifted in his seat, trying to turn towards Douglas and Martin, but he stopped mid-way. With eyebrows scrunched in pain, he uttered a little groan. Carolyn moved her hand from his forehead to his shoulders to steady him and keep him still.

"We think you might have hurt your neck, Arthur. But not badly," she added hastily as Arthur's eyes flew open in panic, "we just think it's best if you stay still for the moment. Goodness knows that will be a task and a half for you, but could you try and manage it?" 

"But I need to help! I can't just sit here while you do all the work."

Douglas cut in with a tone that brooked no argument, "We’ll be fine for the moment, Arthur. We have to check things about G-ERTI that you won't be able to help with, anyways. I'm sure that when we're done, we'll find something easier for you to do," he said, looking notably down at Arthur after a wordless exchange with Martin.

"Okay. I suppose I'm being helpful by just keeping out of the way." Arthur's voice was so small.

"Extremely helpful, you silly boy,” Carolyn gave both of his hands a little squeeze of reassurance. Arthur squeezed back firmly, and his little smile at her touch made her clear her throat, a little embarrassed at being caught out at the sentiment. “Now, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to go with Martin and Douglas to assess the situation, so we'll have to leave you here for a moment. Do you think you need anything?"

Of course, even when in pain, Arthur was too polite to ask for anything. But when he tried to shake his head, he stopped immediately as this set off a pain in his neck. He tried to stifle a groan as his mother's watchful eye roved over him. 

Although still unconvinced that Arthur was as well as he pretended, Carolyn finally rose from her position and straightened her jacket. "Right. Well, gentlemen. We had better get our coats on. It's going to be diabolical out there."

She and Douglas hurried to the seats near the ends of the plane, glad they had not stored their luggage in the hold. They tried to ignore the pitiful amount of items they had brought with them, fully aware that their supposed 'one night stay' had been extended indefinitely, a frightening thought indeed. It was a blessing that they had the foresight to pack warm clothes, something that was a balm in this intimidating situation.

Martin shuddered to think about how cold the aircraft was going to get if they were forced to turn off the heating. He turned to retrieve his coat but heard a soft little voice behind him.

"Martin?"

Martin gave a little shudder. Since when did Arthur call him by his real name? The steward must really be unfocused if he was starting to do that; he was always just 'Skip'.He was eager to go out and help the others inspect G-ERTI's damage, but was also intrigued by what Arthur had to say. He shuffled towards the still figure of Arthur on the chair.

Poor Arthur, he did look pretty bad – blood was still pouring freely from his nose and his face looked bruised and sore. He was holding his neck very stiffly as if afraid to move it even a bit, and Martin felt that he should be more relaxed, otherwise he was probably going to make it worse.

He went on his tiptoes to retrieve Arthur's coat from the overhead locker and folded it into a neat square. Arthur looked at him quizzically.

"You can use it as a cushion. That is… if you need a cushion, I-I don't mean to presume anything–"

"That's brilliant, Skip."

Gingerly, Martin placed the folded coat behind Arthur's neck, being careful not to jostle him too much. Arthur closed his eyes and wiggled slightly, and Martin was glad that he seemed to find an at least relatively comfortable position.

When the Captain spoke, his voice was still thick like he was trying to talk around a swollen tongue. "Was there something you wanted to say to me?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you for saving my life."

Immediately, Martin flushed. He always hated it when he did as he could feel it spreading across his face, and it always clashed so horribly with his hair. Arthur secretly found it adorable.

"Oh, er, it was a joint effort to be honest."

"Oh, I'm grateful to Douglas too! It’s just, you seemed a little shaken up, and so I thought I should tell you. I knew you could do it."

It was funny how Arthur's merry demeanour could give way to such a mature seriousness. Martin could feel pride emanating from his very form. The pride of Arthur Shappey may not be worth much to some people, but Martin found that he appreciated it immensely. It was no mere feat, landing a plane like he and Douglas had, and while he knew that Carolyn was glad too, it was still nice to have someone tell him that he was appreciated. Martin had been relatively starved of receiving compliments as of lateand he wasn't sure what to say next.

"Thank you Arthur. I'm sorry that you got hurt."

"No, no don't be sorry! I'm lucky to be alive! Anyways, I'm glad that we didn't die before I got to say–" 

Now, it was Arthur's turn to blush, hidden as the blush was under his bloodied skin. Martin looked at Arthur questioningly, but as his gaze collided with Arthur's soft, green eyes, the steward flushed deeper. It was unusual for Arthur to leave a sentence unfinished, and Martin opened his mouth to ask what he meant. Before he could even form the words, he heard an irate voice floating in from just outside G-ERTI's door.

"Martin? Where on Earth have you gotten to?"

He whipped his head around to follow it, noticing out of the corner of his vision the steward looking down at the floor as if embarrassed. "Coming Carolyn! Just asking Arthur something!"

"Well, hurry up! It's cold enough for polar bears out here!"

Martin turned back to see Arthur's eyes shining and had to laugh at his expectant face. "No, Arthur, there aren't any polar bears here in Russia. It would be bad if there were, anyways, because they would probably eat us."

"Nah, G-ERTI would protect us. I'm sure there are other fun animals around!" He grinned. Anyway, you should probably go, as I think Mum had her shout-y voice on."

Martin nodded, suddenly feeling terrible that he had to leave Arthur there alone. Without really thinking, he leant forwards and grasped Arthur’s hands, much like the steward had done to him before landing the plane.

"Arthur, I-I'm glad. Glad that you're okay."

Arthur treated him to one of his ear-splitting grins, and despite the fact that his tongue was still bleeding, despite the fact that they were all stuck in a seemingly hopeless situation, the aeroplane suddenly felt much brighter. 

"Thanks, Skip. You should go."

Reluctantly, Arthur took his hand out of Martin's firm grasp, and Martin, feeling more than a little embarrassed, made his way towards the exit quickly, lifting his coat from the overhead locker before he left through the door. 

Arthur was still smiling as he closed his eyes, deciding that a little sleep might help him ignore his aching neck.

 

***

 

When Martin joined Douglas and Carolyn on the ground, he was rather preoccupied about how absolutely mind-numbingly cold it was. Not that he hadn’t expected that Russia to be cold – after all, he wasn’t an idiot – but the chill seemed to seep into every gap in his clothing, reaching out icy fingers that made him shiver and shake. He could see that Carolyn and Douglas were determinedly trying not to let on how cold they were, but he couldn't miss their shivering. 

Douglas raised his eyebrows when Martin moved next to him. "Quite finished with Arthur, are we?"

"Shut up, Douglas. Any idea of the damage?"

Martin almost didn't want to inspect the reliable old plane; although she had hit the ground with a certain force, he knew by the fact that he was still breathing that she couldn't be too badly damaged. But the skidding on the runway, if the runway was indeed where they had landed, would have been hard on the wheels and brakes. 

Douglas cast a critical eye over G-ERTI. "Well, she seems to have taken the impact surprisingly well, although I wouldn't like to fly her until she had a good looking over."

Even this nonchalant statement had rung warning bells for Martin. If Douglas,  _Douglas_ , didn't want to fly the aircraft without consulting the rules, then the damage had to be at least relatively significant. Martin inspected the ground around G-ERTI, checking for tarmac underneath the thick layer of snow, but it was difficult to see his surroundings as the snow was falling heavily in the air, obscuring his view. He was extremely glad to be wearing his hat, as the rest of his uncovered face felt like it was about to drop off from the cold. 

"Have you managed to have a look?"

Carolyn shook her head, her voice exasperated. “No, we were waiting for you. All we have managed to find out is the obvious – we can't fly G-ERTI, so we’re stranded here for god knows how long."

Before Martin could waspishly respond, Douglas hastily intervened. "Why don't we have a look around? Surely there must be some buildings around here."

It sounded like the best idea that any of them could think of, so, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Martin strode up to Douglas's side, his feet making loud crunching noises in the snow.

"Do you think we should split up?"

"Martin, we aren't in a Scooby Doo episode–"

"Fine! It was just a suggestion!" He huffed. 

Douglas let out a sly smile at the annoyance he had elicited from the shorter man. Martin in turn marched on, determinedly not looking at his scathing First Officer. Carolyn gave Douglas a sharp look, knowing that her two pilots would bicker endlessly if she let them. She moved to Douglas's other side, ready to tell him off if she needed to. 

There they all walked in a line together into the cold and gloom. 

Carolyn cast round for something to say, but Douglas beat her to it, a definitely wolfish grin on his face. “With your luck, Martin, you would probably end up eaten by wolves or kidnapped by the abominable snowman." His voice dripped with mock fear. Now that the frightening situation of a crashing plane was behind them, the First Officer could almost feel his good spirits returning, could almost sense his old bravado slowly emerging again. 

Being well accustomed to Douglas's teasing, Martin decided that it wasn't quite worth rising to the bait this time. He let out a hollow, "Oh, har, har." Before continuing, " Well, we might as well go this way."

They tromped on through the snow, the crunching of their feet the only audible sound from miles around. The quiet was eerie, and in any other situation it would have been somewhat pleasant to be in a place so serene. But once paired with the hopelessness of their situation and the darkening sky, it was beginning to feel rather sinister. 

It felt prudent to explore their surrounding area, but they knew the dire importance of their situation; if they walked too far, they would lose sight of G-ERTI. And they knew that if this unfortunate situation was to occur they would definitely be facing certain peril, so they kept a watchful eye as they explored. 

After a few minutes, Douglas pointed to a shape looming in the distance. "Look! I do believe that is a sign!"

They rushed over, glad for the excuse to run as it generated a bit of heat for their poor, frozen limbs. They drew up before it, squinting in the amounting gloom.

"It's in Russian." Carolyn sounded disappointed, yet more than a little unsurprised.

Douglas craned his neck, his eyes narrowed against the snowflakes that were threatening to fall into them."Of course it is, but I think I can see…yes! Underneath it, it says 'Oymyakon Airfield, A.L.S.I.B.

Carolyn and Douglas exchanged a confused glance, but Martin, his brain always filled with seemingly useless facts about aviation, could feel his head chasing a memory.

"Hang on, that rings a bell. A.L.S.I.B… A.L.S.I.B … Oh! Alaska-Siberian, I think. That's why that bit’s in English – it was for American aircrafts!"

Impressed, Douglas clapped a hand to Martin's shoulder in triumph. "You are full of wonders sometimes Martin,” his eyes sparkled, his voice rising a loud and jubilant, “We made it! Hit the airfield slap bang in the middle, even in the snowstorm! Rather well done, if I may say so myself."

Martin allowed himself a large smile, feeling proud that they had managed this staggering achievement. 

Carolyn, however, was still regarding the sign with apprehension."Yes, yes – it's wonderful that you two managed to save us, and I am sure that I will be thanking you eternally if Douglas gets his way. But where on _Earth_ are we? I don't see directions to the nearest town or even any buildings here." 

Her worried tone cut through their minor celebrations at once. A horrible sort of realisation sunk in, whispering in a sinister voice that there would be no chance at all of having wifi there, and there would probably be no phone signal, either. They were going to have to rely on the maps they had stashed in the aeroplane; maps that were, sadly, better suited when read thousands of feet up in the air. 

Douglas looked sideways at Carolyn. "You aren't suggesting that we go looking anywhere, are you? What if we get lost? We don't have enough supplies for a long trip and we would freeze to death long before we starved."

"What choice do we have?” Carolyn asked, her voice hollow. “The radio isn't working. We'll just be like sitting ducks waiting for the cold to take us." 

It was difficult; both decisions made sense, but both were very dire. 

Martin bit his lip thoughtfully. "We can't guarantee that the radio isn't working, though. What if we left and someone tried to contact us and we missed them?"

"And we need to think about Arthur. He won't be able to travel that far with his injuries." Douglas said, gesturing behind him to the plane where the faithful steward waited. 

Carolyn remained quiet, her mind racing through all of the options that were available to them. Many years spent attempting to run a predominantly loss-making company had taught her the necessary skill of choosing between options that were horrible and options that were merely bad. She was well versed in making tough decisions, and slowly her mind was drawn to one that, although ominous, seemed like the best option they would have in this detestable situation. She drew a deep breath.

"Well, we could…"

"Oh, no."

Martin jumped as Douglas's voice turned icy, booming in the frigid air. Douglas gave the C.E.O a look of absolute fury, as if he couldn't believe whatever it was that she was about to say.

"Carolyn, I know what you are going to suggest, and I must say I _strongly_ disagree-" 

"But what else can we do?" Carolyn bit back with just as much vehemence. 

Martin looked between each of them, confused.  "Sorry, have I missed something?"

With his eyes firmly fixed on Carolyn, Douglas hissed his reply. "Carolyn is going to suggest what you said earlier, Martin. She is going to suggest that we split up."

"It is the only option that is going to solve our problem.” Carolyn's face may have been an unearthly shade of white in the gusts of snow, but her voice contained a strength that they both knew and feared.  “If two of us stay with G-ERTI, they can monitor and keep an eye on the radio in case anyone tried to contact us. Then the other two can search for help."

"And who, pray tell, is going to go where?" Douglas spoke through gritted teeth, obviously trying his hardest to keep his temper in check. 

Carolyn raised an eyebrow at him as if he had missed something obvious."Why, Douglas, you and I will go looking for help, and Martin and Arthur shall stay on G-ERTI." 

There was an explosion of noise at this as Martin and Douglas both began shouting at the same time.

"I'm the _Captain_ , Carolyn! You can't just expect me to stay put like a nice little dog–"

"I am  _not_  going to freeze my arse off in some godforsaken, useless search–"

"–I landed the plane, I can find the city!"

"–While they’ll stay put in the plane, we will most certainly die!"

Carolyn puffed up with rage again as she shouted, "Gentlemen, _please_!"

The two pilots immediately stopped their panicked squabble as Carolyn's voice echoed around the airfield, dully fading into the distance. It was like being shouted at by a whole army of Carolyn's – a terrifying thought indeed. 

She attempted to reason with them, "We need someone who will be able to navigate the way to the closest city, Martin, and whilst I trust you in the air, I don't think any of us will forget the day you lost your way to the supermarket in Fitton and ended up ten miles away at a farm!"

"My GPS malfunctioned!" Martin protested ardently, but Carolyn ignored him.

"And I suspect Douglas has many talents that will be useful when trying to survive in the wilderness. And, as we all know, he can speak a little Russian, which might prove to be useful in these parts. Also, you are the best person at using the radio and will know exactly what to say in case anyone tries to communicate with you. Now, you will have to look after Arthur, but even I think you will manage that."

In a ridiculous, utterly stupid way, it made sense, but they still didn't like it. Martin didn't want to admit it, but he was slightly frightened of being given the task of looking after Arthur – what if he did something wrong? What if Arthur didn't get better because of his shoddy help? Surely Douglas, with his medical student knowledge, would be better suited for the job of looking after an ill Arthur. 

But, then again, Martin imagined that Douglas would probably have many hidden skills suited for tackling the wilderness with Carolyn. In fact, he was fairly sure if those two were paired together, even wild wolves would run away, yelping in terror. Maybe him staying put with Arthur _was_ the most sensible situation. But while being left on  G-ERTI may have appeared to be the better offer, staying on the aircraft  was an undoubtedly bleak option. Martin wasn't sure how long they were going to be able to keep the heating on before the already leaking fuel ran out. 

Martin's thoughts drifted back to the still figure lying quietly in the flight deck, and his voice turned quiet as he thought of how the steward would react to their discussion. "Arthur's not going to like the thought of you two leaving." 

Carolyn's sigh was heavy – even though she had suggested that they split up, she didn't like the idea much herself. There was no guarantee that their search would provide any sort of help at all, not to mention that Arthur would worry about her being gone in that puppy dog way of his. But they had to do it. They  _had_  to.  

 

"I know. But it would be foolish to allow him to come with us in his state, and I want him safe on the plane." Carolyn's voice was curt, trying to hide the concern she felt for her son. But it was becoming harder and harder to disguise her worry as her eyes were inevitably drawn towards the snow falling around them. She spoke quickly, trying to dispense some of her worry."Come on, we need to go and get ready."

"No, we shouldn't go tonight."Douglas's voice was cutting, and Carolyn looked rather hurt.

"Excuse me?"

"It's getting dark, and it would be foolish to attempt to go looking now. We should stay on G-ERTI for tonight, make a plan, then go in the morning when it's light. Trust me – we do _not_ want get lost in the night."

It was a sensible point, and Carolyn conceded without argument, knowing that she could trust Douglas on this. After nodding, she began to make her way back to G-ERTI, leading the others in a briskly plodding line. With their added haste, it didn't take long for the forlorn shape of G-ERTI to soon hone into view, and they carefully hauled themselves up the slippery stairs, glad that they were about to seek some respite from the freezing air. 

They breathed a sigh of relief when they re-entered the warm body of the plane, and it was almost heartbreaking to see Arthur trying to lean closer to them in extreme eagerness.

"Hi! Hi! Did you find anything? Were there any polar bears? Oh no, stupid, there wouldn't be… were there any Russian bears?"

"Good lord, Arthur, please don't wish for bears! We've got quite enough on our plate without them."

But this didn't seem to deflate his buoyant mood at all. In fact, he seemed quite excited that they had returned to the plane and he had managed to wipe the blood off his face so he looked much better, if not still slightly bruised. 

Douglas moved over to his seat, examining him with a critical eye he had no doubt learnt at medical college. "Arthur, I'm going to let you unbuckle your seatbelt, okay? I'm going to need you to try and stand up to check that everything is working fine. Could you do that for me?"

"Of course, Douglas! I'll be up in a jiffy, just let me undo this… ah, nearly got it–"

Martin and Carolyn moved closer to Arthur in order to be on hand just in case anything went wrong, as it was usually wont to do. 

After a brief struggle with his seatbelt, Arthur unbuckled it and rose slowly and carefully from his chair, his shoulder drawn up in an attempt to keep his neck from moving. But he was concentrating so much on muting the pain that he tripped over his own feet, nearly craching to the ground as his arms windmilling hopelessly. He would have done exactly that, but Martin darted forwards, grabbing Arthur’s arm to steady him.

Arthur looked down at the smaller man in gratitude, his voice shaking. "Thank you, Skip. I nearly went down there."

"Arthur, you've got to be _careful!_ You could have really hurt your neck if you'd fallen." Martin tried to make his voice less shouty as Arthur was injured after all and couldn't really be blamed for not thinking straight, but he obviously hadn't done a very good job as he saw the steward's face drop.Martin knew that if Arthur was in a position to hang his head he would have done, but he only moved his eyes sadly to the floor. 

Feeling awful and more than a little awkward, Martin guided him out of the narrow spaces between the seats towards Douglas, who was well aware of Arthur's less than happy demeanour, so his words were unusually gentle.

"Okay, so Arthur I need you to try and turn your head, first this way, yes like that, is that okay?"

Arthur, looking relieved that Douglas had spoken kindly, twisted his head slightly to the left, a small grimace evident. "Hmm, it hurts a bit… Wait… Agh, I can't do it any more than that."

"Stop. Right, turn it the other way."

Arthur obliged, his eyes straining at the effort, but he couldn't move it much in that direction. His voice was breathless, sad. "I can't do it any more than that. I'm sorry–"

"Don't be sorry! It isn't your fault!" Douglas moved a little closer to Arthur, inspecting his clearly bruised neck with a keen eye. "Yes, I think it's only whiplash and a bit of a strain, Carolyn, but of course, I can't be one hundred percent sure."

"Is there nothing we can do?" Carolyn knew it was a hopeless question to ask, but she felt rather useless just standing there and watching.

"No, I seem to remember that in cases of whiplash, it's better if you let the problem sort itself out. Messing around with slings or anything like that will actually do more harm than good. Sorry Arthur, you're going to have to heal on your own."

Despite Arthur's obviously painful injuries, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief that they didn't require a cure as impossible as a neck brace. Arthur could actually help himself more by keeping busy rather than being forced to do nothing, which he was lucky because Carolyn often complained about how trying to make Arthur sit still had become impossible as soon as he had discovered how to walk. 

Arthur stretched his legs eagerly; even though he enjoyed having his pillow, it had been starting to feel slightly uncomfortable being huddled on the seat. He looked at them with a face full of sweet expectation. "So, did you find anyone?"

They all paused, unsure how exactly they should tell Arthur about their predicament. He had only just gotten back his abundant cheerfulness, and they were loathing to pop his happy bubble, even though they knew they knew it was inevitable. 

Carolyn proceeded delicately. "No, we didn't. We did manage to land on the airfield we were aiming for–"

"Hurray! Oh Douglas, Skip, you _are_ brilliant!" His eyes were shining joyously again, and it was painful to see the pure relief evident on his face. Despite his apparent happiness, it was clear that he had been expecting the worst and this news caused his posture on the chair to become almost relaxed. 

Carolyn saw all of this, and she felt very cruel, having to break the joyful moment with bad news **.** "Yes, they did a good job. _But_ –" Arthur picked up on the 'but' immediately, his small smile fading quickly. Carolyn continued, "unfortunately, this airfield doesn't seem to be near any form of civilisation. So we've decided–" A sharp cough came from Douglas’ direction, and Carolyn rolled her eyes. “Fine, _I’ve_ decided that it's probably best to go looking for help."

Arthur blinked, unable to fathom the tension that he could practically feel emanating from the other three. His Understanding People Course told him that they were worriedly gauging his reaction, but he didn't understand what he was supposed to be upset at.

"Right. Okay. When do we go looking?"

Martin decided to plunge onwards. "See, the thing is Arthur, i-is that we decided that, as the radio might not be broken after all, someone should stay here and the others should go."

They could practically see the cogs working in Arthur's brain as he thought about this, and sure enough, after a few moments, he gasped widely, staring at his mum in pure horror. 'No! No, no, no! We can't split up! What if someone gets lost?"

"Arthur calm down–"

"You're going to make me stay, I know it, oh! What if you got eaten by bears? It's all my fault, I _wanted_ the bears–"

"–Arthur, you silly boy, we're not going to leave you alone!" She said, a frantic edge to her voice."Martin shall be staying with you, and I'm sure Douglas and I will have a suitably bear-free time."

Arthur seemed to perk up when Carolyn mentioned that Martin was staying, but when he considered what she said, his face screwed up in anguish. When he spoke, he sounded very, very young – young and so very, very scared. "But Mum… I don't _want_ you to go."

It was a small thing, almost unnoticeable really, but Douglas and Martin could see that Carolyn's expression had softened at Arthur’s quiet words. She could certainly be frightening at times, but sometimes, especially when Arthur was concerned, another more understanding side emerged from hiding. 

"Arthur, don't you worry about me. I am not the frail old lady that everyone seems to think I am."

"But it's got to be cold, really _really_ cold, and, and what if you get lost and what if I never see–"

"I will _not_ allow that to happen." And, with her steely expression and hard set jaw, it almost seemed as though Carolyn was daring the snow to try and stop her from succeeding. 

Seeing his still devastated expression, Douglas looked over at Arthur kindly. "There is no need to worry, Arthur. I will be on hand helping your mother. And honestly, if someone could save her from bears… well, I’m not one to boast, but she should be glad she has me."

"But I don't want you to get lost, either."

"Arthur, no one is going to get lost!" Carolyn's newfound patience seemed to snap. "If we can't find anyone we will just head straight back! And if we can't manage to walk back in a straight line, then maybe we deserve to get lost in the middle of nowhere!"

Arthur could see that he wasn't going to win – he rarely did – so he didn't say any more. He just stood there with a worried expression. The thought of Douglas and his mum trying to battle their way throughout this foreboding landscape filled him with dread, but while he felt uselessly banished to G-ERTI, he was glad for the little bit of familiarity in this alien landscape. 

As he saw Arthur's face creasing again, Martin decided that distraction was probably the best option for the situation. "Hey Arthur, why don't we check to see how much food we have in the galley? We are going to have to see how much we've got and decide how we're going to make it last for a long time."

Food. All of their stomachs rumbled at the thought of it; they hadn't eaten during flight and they all knew that there wasn't going to be much food in the galley. 

They all made their way to that end of the plane, Arthur seeming slightly happier now that he was in his element. He rummaged through the cupboards with ease, rifling through their very depths with concentration.

"Well, I'm afraid we don't have much hidden in G-ERTI that I don't know about, because I don't think it's very nice when food goes all mouldy and smelly, so we probably won’t find much in the cupboards."

"What culinary delights were you supposed to prepare for us on the flight then?"

Arthur removed himself from his futile search and opened the fridge, bringing out two small trays. "Well, you had to choose between admirals pie again and this rice dish thing." After spying their horrified expressions, he spoke hurriedly. "Not surprising rice! Just some boring type." He said with a slightly stuffy air.

Douglas and Martin could only exchange a look of horror. That was all they had?

"Is there… is there nothing else?" Martin's voice quavered in shock. It was just such a pitiful amount. 

Arthur rummaged further into the small fridge. "Well, because it was supposed to be such a long flight, we have the cheeseboard, mine and Mum's sandwiches, as well as the emergency sandwiches if I open this little drawer here–"

"Emergency sandwiches?" Douglas cut in, his voice ladled with confusion. "Since when do we have _emergency_ sandwiches?"

"Oh, I usually bring them when we go on long flights. Just in case, see? That's why I haven't told you about them before – otherwise, they wouldn't really be there when we needed them, see?" He said triumphantly, not seeing their looks of utter bafflement. "And look, I was right! This is an emergency! I got something right!" He sounded ecstatic, but the others could only stare at the small pile of food in worry. 

Martin turned to Carolyn, who looked about as awful as he felt. "What are we going to do? You and Douglas are going to need to take most of it because we don't know how long you're going to be out there. But, god, there isn't a lot."

She let out a long and drawn out sigh. "It's going to be worse than Xinzhou, even though we have more food than then." 

"Xinzhou?” Arthur perked up at the mention of this fateful trip from only a few months ago. “Oh wow, that was loads of fun. Snow! Oh, there's snow here – I could make another snowman!"

"Arthur, if you dare make another snowman, I'm going to have to strangle you with my scarf. We don't want another repeat of St Petersburg when you got stuck to G-ERTI's door! We don't have any vodka!" 

Douglas cast a sly look at Carolyn. "Don't we?"

She was about to offer him a snappy retort in response, but a thought froze her in her tracks. Bustling over to the drinks cupboard that had almost been forgotten in their search, Carolyn brought out a couple of bottles of wine and various miniatures. They usually would have a fair amount of alcohol stored on the craft, but since it wasn't a passenger flight they hadn't felt a particular need to restock their supplies. However, they still had a merry amount of alcohol. 

Carolyn surveyed her haul with her eyebrows raised. "Excellent. So we have more alcohol than food. I'm sure you're thrilled about that, Douglas." 

He regarded the alcohol with a pained expression, clearly torn. "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to drink it until I have to. I'm not wasting more than ten years sobriety unless it’s absolutely necessary. And I'm talking ‘having to drag myself across the ice because I've gnawed off my own legs’ necessary." 

"Well, the two of us won't be able to carry much of it, anyways, so I suppose we’ll divvy out the food accordingly."

Arthur tried to bend down to look into another cupboard, but a tap on the shoulder stopped him. He looked up to see Martin standing behind him, looking rather nervous at the apparently somewhat unintentional contact.

"Arthur, your neck." Martin reminded him gently, "I'll have a look in that cupboard for you."

"Oh, er, thanks! Go ahead, Skip!" 

Martin slid ungracefully down, but made a sound of triumph when he retrieved a few packets of nuts and biscuits.

"Aha, the passenger stores! I wondered about that." He gathered the small pile of food and laid it with the rest. It was still rather pitiful in terms of survival, but it was better than the miserly meal they'd had to deal with before. 

Douglas looked down at the packets, a hand on his chin as he considered, "Well, if you two don't mind, I shall take the sealed goods, as they will be easier to carry. What say you, Carolyn?" 

The C.E.O went over to the small pile and sifted through some of the items with a critical eye. "Yes, you're right, Douglas. It is probably best if you have the pie though, Martin, as you have the microwave at your disposal." 

"Yes, that's fair enough." Martin agreed. "You should take the rice though – it won't be particularly nice cold, but you should have a meal to take, at least. You should take the cheese as well." 

It was a sacrifice, having to give up the cheeseboard. Douglas realised this and accepted gracefully. "That's very noble of you, Martin. We'll leave the squishier ones here, though. We don't want them to leak in the bag we take." A thought seemed to strike him then, and he looked up with concern etched on his face. Speaking of bags, does anyone have a backpack? I don't fancy carrying my luggage bag." 

Although he had expected it, Douglas had to suppress a sigh as Arthur looked excitedly at his words.

"Let me guess, you are the only one of us who has a backpack?"

"Yes," Arthur was breathless, looking incredibly pleased that he could actually be some help. He was practically bouncing with excitement, which made Douglas realise that it would be impossible to refuse his help without being faced with puppy dog eyes. 

The First Officer braced himself."And – dare I ask – what variety of fluffy creature is it adorned with?"

"Kittens, today."

"A very masculine bag is it, Arthur?"

"Err, maybe. Some of their hats are top hats, I think."

Douglas groaned as Carolyn's face turned gleeful.

"Hats… I'm not going to ask. You could wear it, Carolyn."

She snorted in derision. "But you have so nobly offered to bear the burden of the food. I shall, of course, carry something in my own woefully kitten-less bag, but I will manage. I am going to be the map-holder anyway, so I won't be wholly unburdened."

"You were always _so_ generous."

"I know. I do believe it's one of my finer qualities." 

Martin didn't even bother to hold back his snort; it was satisfying to see Douglas beaten for once. 

With a dignity that only he could muster, Douglas grabbed the proffered bag and spoke to the rest in a long-suffering voice. 

"Come on, everyone. Let's grab a chair and crack open some peanuts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been pretty diligent with these updates so far, but I've not written the next chapter quite yet so we'll have to see when I'll be able to upload it. Enjoy!


	4. The parting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, for this story I seem to be writing it in much bigger chunks, so goodness knows how long it's going to be in the end!  
> Also, I saw Star Trek last night and I've got to say, wow Cumberbatch. Wow!

They decided that, despite their current hunger, they shouldn't waste much of their food on this first night. They shared the sandwiches that Arthur and Carolyn had brought because as these were made freshly and as the emergency packets were sealed these were more likely to go off, although it was so cold outside that everything would probably be able to be preserved forever. They had cracked open one of the bottles of wine to try and dissipate their gnawing hunger, much to the dismay of Arthur and Douglas, Arthur because he disliked the taste of wine and Douglas because he had to refuse it. Douglas contented himself with some juice they had found in the fridge and Arthur did drink some wine, nose crinkled in disgust, because it was preferable to having a rumbling stomach. Of course, one happy side effect of the wine was to make them feel not exactly drunk, but a little dreamy, as if this was just another wait at an airfield like they had done countless times before. It wasn't particularly cold on the flight deck, not _yet_ , as they had turned down the heating slightly to conserve energy but wanted this first night to be comfortable.

 

 In her heart, Carolyn knew that wandering into the wilds was probably a very foolish idea as who knew where they would turn up? But they had to try, and she was confident that she and Douglas would be able to find their way back to G-ERTI if they absolutely had to. Douglas knew that they were probably about to embark on a hopeless endeavour, and dearly hoped that he and Carolyn weren't going to be forced to sleep outdoors in the cold. But they had reasoned over their respective wine and juice that the airfield couldn't be in the middle of nowhere; there _had_ to be civilisation close by. They had decided that if they couldn't find any hint of a city or house after a few hours, they would head back so they wouldn't freeze to death. Although it had felt deathly cold outside, Douglas had assured Carolyn that it wasn't nearly as cold as these parts of Russia could get in the winter; it could get worse. This made her shiver with dread, but they were lucky that it wasn't abominably cold yet.  

 

They were huddled closeish together, rather like they had when they were waiting in Xinzhou, and the familiarity of the situation was not lost on them. Arthur, his sore neck nestled comfortable on a cushion taken off one of the chairs spoke in a hopeful voice.

"I've just thought…do you know what I reckon would cheer us up?"

Carolyn's floating voice heralded a warning.

"Arthur-"

"Fizz!"

There was a slight pause, but the others decided they might as well indulge Arthur this time.

"Buzz!"

Douglas gave Carolyn a stern look and she sighed and joined in half enthusiastically with his hearty,

"'Ave a banana!"

Arthur giggled in delight, and it was difficult to be annoyed with him when you heard that tinkling tune. For most people, the novelty of that game would have worn off long ago, but with Arthur his joy was so fresh and honest that the game even seemed immeasurably fun for the others. They continued for a little while, but eventually the game petered out and they lay there in a comfortable silence.  They had left the radio on in case it somehow rang in the night, and Martin had elected to stay awake for a little while to make sure they didn't miss anything. Douglas told him to either wake him up after a while or just go to sleep himself because he thought it to be unlikely that they would be contacted through the night, but Martin wanted to be absolutely sure they didn't miss an opportunity to be rescued. He could feel sleep tugging traitorously at his eyes, but he knew that Carolyn and Douglas were going to have a very rough day tomorrow so he thought they would need the rest. Also, he was finding it a little uncomfortable to lie down; he had gone into the toilet to take off his shirt and inspect his torso where he had felt the pain after G-ERTI had landed and he winced as he saw livid red marks on his skin and felt his aching shoulders, already much abused from his man with a van job. He knew he wasn't drastically injured, so he didn't bring it up with the others as he didn't want them to worry or think that he was whinging. Carolyn was already expending most of her energy trying not to appear concerned about Arthur, but he couldn't miss her eyes darting to his bruised face or each time he let out a little grunt when he jarred his neck. 

So Martin perched on his chair near the radio, the dim outlines of the other crew members fuzzy in the darkness. They had found blankets in one of G-ERTI's many cupboards and they each had one wrapped round them comfortably. Blankets wouldn't do much against the full force of the cold outside, but they knew they were lucky to even have that luxury. Soon enough, the room was filled with the steady rhythm of breathing, and Martin assumed they had all gone to sleep. But he was mistaken; suddenly, Arthur's voice overtook the silence, small and worried. 

"What are we going to do if we don't find anyone?"

There was an awkward pause, as Martin wasn't sure if the other two were asleep, and anyway he didn't have a clue about what answer to give Arthur. Should he offer him false hope which would keep him happy but ultimately be a lie or tell him the truth which could cause him to spiral into despair? Luckily, it was Douglas's sleepy voice that answered.

"We hope, Arthur. It's all we can do." 

It was rather a profound statement, one that Martin wouldn't really have expected from Douglas, but he appreciated it. Hope was something Arthur of all people could cling onto, and Martin could sense him absorbing this information in quiet contemplation. He had almost expected Arthur to believe that everything was going to be alright, that Douglas would somehow save them all again, but strangely he seemed to be preparing himself for the worst. But he stayed silent, accepting his fate, and for some reason at that moment Martin respected both of them immensely. He could only wish he had so much strength when the time came. 

 

Martin fought heroically to stay awake, but the excitement and tension of the day had given way to sheer exhaustion and when he felt his eyes close he didn't have the strength to stop them. He was fairly confident that if the radio rang out then at least one of them would wake up because they were all so worried that he was  sure a loud noise like that of the radio buzzing would cause one of them to awaken. He could definitely hear the whuff of Arthur's soft breathing now, and years of experience drawing the short straw and being forced to share rooms with the excitable steward told him that Arthur was now fast asleep. Martin briefly wondered how easily he and Arthur were going to sleep when they were alone and worrying about Douglas and Carolyn fighting their way through the formidable landscape, but he didn't worry for long as soon succumbed to a pleasant sleep.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

When Martin woke up, he saw that someone had lifted the covers off G-ERTI's windows allowing streams of light to enter the plane which danced cheerfully over the seats, making Martin feel rather surprised that this hadn't woken him up earlier. He rose form his slumped position on his seat next to the radio, stretching his poor, abused muscles and noticing that Douglas was still snoozing comfortably. He saw that Carolyn was reading a newspaper she that must have brought yesterday and hadn't had the chance to read with a slightly amused expression. She rolled her eyes meaningfully at Martin when she noticed that he had woken up.

"My goodness, that boy never stops does he?" 

He wondered briefly what on earth she could be talking about, then realised that Arthur was absent from his space on the floor and that he could hear a merry sort of whistling and cluttering coming form the direction of the galley. He felt a bit confused as Arthur couldn't possibly have anything to prepare for them, but his bewilderment was put to rest when the happy steward honed into view carrying a tray filled with steaming cups. Martin tried to protest weakly.

"Arthur, you don't have to-"

"There's not point trying to stop him. _Believe_ me, I have tried." 

"But surely we need to be preserving-"

"It's only a little bit of hot water, Skip! I tried really hard not to waste any."

He looked a bit sad that Martin didn't approve of the efforts he had gone to, which did make him feel awful, but he did feel that his point still stood as they were after all supposed to be conserving supplies. But Carolyn was giving him a definite 'just be grateful you stupid idiot it'll be over faster' sort of look which she had perfected after all of the years she had spent watching over Arthur. Defeated, Martin tried to offer Arthur a genuine expression of gratefulness.

"That's, that's good to know. Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur beamed, accepting Martin's change of heart without a second thought. He had briefly wondered when he woke up surrounded by the gentle breathing of the rest of the crew whether anyone would shout at him for being wasteful if he made them all drinks, but he knew they all must feel as hungry as he did and he thought it would be a lovely surprise to be woken up with a nice hot drink, especially since today was going to be filled with many challenges. There was also another reason why he elected to make them drinks, one which in the dark caverns of his mind where his usual happy thoughts did not deem to tread thought slightly selfish. Making the drinks, keeping up the charade that he was being a steward helped him to keep his mind off the current situation; he could almost pretend it was not happening, thus he was happy. Carolyn, in that sly way of hers, had picked up on this, which is why she indulged Arthur without much of a complaint. There was also the fact that Arthur's bruised face had deepened in colour overnight, which looked quite sore; it was difficult to be harsh to him when he looked like that. The combination of their conversation and the wafting allure of the coffee served to make Douglas stir, and soon enough he let out a mighty yawn. 

"Coffee as soon as I wake up? We're getting much better service than we usually do at those hellholes you book for us, Carolyn."

Martin couldn't help but let a teasing tone enter his voice.

"Yes, but you've got to remember that this coffee is made by _Arthur_."

"Hey!"

But Arthur could see that Martin wasn't being serious, and slipping into the banter that they all usually indulged in was almost a sigh of relief after the tension of yesterday. Douglas reached over and plucked a mug from Arthur's tray, making a show of taking a cautious sip.

"Mmm, nasty Martin- this is rather good. Or maybe coffee just tastes extra heavenly on a woefully empty stomach."

"Yeah, you'd be surprised how nice a cup of coffee can be when you've not eaten for a while." 

Martin kept his tone light, but there was a slightly uncomfortable silence after this. Everyone always felt a feeling of shame whenever they remembered Martin's home situation, but through his sadness Arthur was secretly pleased that the coffee he made for Martin during their trips at least gave him a little happiness. Martin did feel very hungry, but he was so used to the feeling that he knew he would probably be able to deal with the limited food situation the best out of all of them, though the thought gave him absolutely no pleasure whatsoever. Finally he would be the best at something, and he couldn't even be proud of it. 

 

He reached over to take his coffee and briefly met Arthur's eye, which was filled with a sadness he felt whenever he remembered that Martin sometimes went hungry. He wanted to say something, to promise that he would never have to feel that hungry again, but he just couldn't think of the right words to express this. They jumped slightly as Carolyn cleared her throat.

"Well, it's all fine and good enjoying a nice hot drink in the warmth, but I feel that we shouldn't take too long in setting off, Douglas. It seems very bright for the moment but we know well that the weather here can be changeable." 

"Yes, I agree. After this we should probably get our supplies gathered and leave as soon as possible. Martin, do you know where the maps are?"

But it was Arthur who answered, eager to help once more.

"I know where they are! I'll just fetch them, shall I?" 

And, without waiting for an answer he practically bounded into the flight deck, leaving the others rather bemused behind him. Douglas leaned towards Carolyn, speaking in a low, quiet voice.

"Is he alright? He seems a bit…" 

Martin could see what he meant. Arthur was usually eager to help, but today he seemed to be on a mission to be as helpful as possible, but in a slightly desperate way that obviously hinted at some concealed feeling. Carolyn was staring at the flight deck with clear concern etched onto her already worried face. 

"Silly boy. He always gets like this whenever I have to leave him for an unknown period of time. You should have seen him trying to clean the entire house the first time I went to Herc's. It's almost like he wants me to remember him as being useful rather than, well, silly." 

When Douglas spoke, his tone was unusually warm towards Carolyn.

"He's an adult, Carolyn. I'm sure he can manage."

"I know, sometimes I think I may have made a bad decision in allowing him to live with me, as one day I know he shall have to move out and I think it's going to be particularly hard on him. He doesn't do vey well on his own, Arthur. That is partly the reason why I wanted you to stay here with him, Martin, apart from the obvious fact that you know how to operate the radio." 

At this, Martin felt slightly abashed that he had wanted to go and search with Carolyn so much. He had always thought that Arthur enjoyed any situation, would be perfectly content in his own company but he realised that he had never much seen Arthur alone. He always seemed to be constantly around, buzzing like a happy little bee and being just as productive. Martin could understand his unhappiness at Carolyn leaving, as he knew exactly how he would feel if his mother was the one about to go on a trek through a dangerous wilderness. 

"I'll, er, try and make sure he stays happy, Carolyn. I'm sure he'll be thinking of it as a holiday before long."

She nodded at his words, but they stopped talking as Arthur rushed back into the room, his arm laden with many paper maps. He handed them to Douglas, who had just finished his drink and settled on a chair reading them intently. It was going to be rather tricky to pinpoint their exact location, as the abandoned airfield wasn't on the map, but they did have coordinates from where they had been in the air, so he furiously scanned the map, trying to at least gauge what direction they should go in. Martin shuffled over to try and help, moving past Carolyn who was rifling through her handbag in search of anything that could help her and Douglas's journey. Martin and Douglas conspired for a short while, and it was a mark of how much Douglas had grown to hold Martin's advice in some regard as he was holding back most of his sarcasm in order to ensure that they didn't make a stupid mistake through petty feuding. Whilst they were doing this, Arthur settled himself down onto a chair with his own very sweetened cup of tea, leaning his still aching neck onto a headrest and trying not to make his fatigue too obvious. Arthur was one of those people that when they woke up, no matter how tired they were they were _up_ and couldn't stay in bed lounging around so he had gotten up rather earlier than he would have liked with his injuries. His neck had been at a slightly awkward angle when he woke up, and he wished it would just go back to being a nice, painless neck again. 

 

"So, what do you reckon? East?"

"Yes, I think east is our best bet. At least we know that the sun rises in the east so if we did get lost then we would be able to use that as a rudimentary point of navigation. We were heading east anyway so I rather think it's worth a try. Do you agree, Carolyn?"

It was kind of Douglas to include Carolyn in this important debate because of course she didn't have the same knowledge about these sorts of things that they did, and by asking her it hinted that he still regarded her somewhat as the boss, which he knew would fill her with strength and a sense of normality. Carolyn, although she knew how foolish her two pilots could be, did actually trust them far more than she let on, so she pretended to give the maps a detailed look, then with an airy voice proclaimed,

"Sounds good to me. Well done, underlings." 

She bustled away, probably to put something useful in her bag and Douglas, smirking, turned to Arthur.

"Well, we might as well get going. Where's this charming bag of yours then?"

Arthur sprung up from his chair, delighted. He rummaged in an overhead locker, his tongue stuck out in concentration, bobbing on his tiptoes. After a brief search he pulled out his rucksack which, true to his description was covered in many kittens wearing a variety of hats. In a bright sunny yellow. Douglas received it with a groan.

"Where do you _find_ these things?"

"Oh, it was in a lovely little shop in Fitton. They let me have it half price and it must have been special because apparently it had been there for ages."

Douglas's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, I _wonder why-"_

_"_ Shut it, Douglas. It's going to look lovely with your uniform." 

Douglas shot Martin a withering look and announced that if he was going to have to use this bag then he might as well fill it up and get a use out of it. He moved towards the flight deck, and with the absence of the maps Martin noticed how tired Arthur looked.

"Gosh Arthur, you look terrible. Not in a horrible way! Just in a, you know, need more sleep way."

"Not in a 'we almost crashed and died' sort of way?" 

It was an unusually wry comment from Arthur, which prompted Martin into looking at him more closely in concern. He sometimes felt like they assumed Arthur would be blindly happy in any situation, but he was after all only human. Martin could see that with Carolyn and Douglas actually preparing to leave, their imminent departure a stark reality, Arthur was beginning to become more and more agitated, his usual pleasant exterior becoming more strained. Martin could see his hand nervously tapping on the seat in front of him, his fingers shaking slightly, and he wondered how hard Arthur was really working to keep his emotions in check. 

And, underlying all of this kerfuffle, the radio had not emitted one peep or buzz; no one from the outside world had made contact. If Douglas and Carolyn failed, well, how much hope did they have of ever being rescued? But Martin decided that now wasn't the time to descend into despair, not when everyone was teetering on the edge of strong emotions. Martin knew he wasn't the most reassuring of people, being small and not very noteworthy, but he knew that  for some unknown yet wonderful reason, Arthur would listen to him.

"Arthur? I know I can't promise anything, but I'm sure it's going to be fine. We're going to have our hands full looking after G-ERTI aren't we?"

Arthur blinked slowly at him, drinking in his words. There was a hint of a smile on his lips and Martin knew that with a little encouragement it would soon blossom into a full blown grin.

"Yeah, we'll have to do our very best for when they come back. Here, let me take your cup-"

"I'll help you do the washing up. I might as well- there isn't really anything else for me to do."

To be honest, there wasn't really a way of washing the cups up on the plane as they had decided that they weren't going to waste the water they had on trivial things, but Martin didn't want Arthur to rush off and work himself up into a fret. Arthur seemed startled that Martin wanted to help him, but as they moved off together towards the galley, Martin saw that little smile turn into the grin he was looking for. 

 

 

***

 

 

 

The snow seemed to have ceased momentarily as Martin cast his eyes out of the windows. In a short time, Douglas and Carolyn had put on all of the clothes they had brought with them in from bags so that they had on many layers in an attempt to ward off the cold; the effect of this was that they looked oddly misshapen and lumpy, and Douglas looked more than a little ridiculous with the vibrant bag on his shoulders. But they bore their odd countenances with a dignity that only they could attempt, and Martin privately thought that at least they looked so odd that they would be able to be seen from miles around, which could only been a good thing. When Carolyn had complained that she hadn't brought a hat, Martin had innocently suggested that she wrap one of the blankets around her head in a sort of headscarf, completely forgetting that this was exactly the sort of old-lady stereotype she always thought valiantly to avoid. When her nostrils dilated dangerously and Martin realised his folly, he spluttered,

"Douglas could do it too! Then you'd both be warm!"

But Arthur seemed very eager about the idea and ploughed on before Martin could even attempt to stop him.

"Ooh, but Skip they'd look like Russian dolls, agh it'd be perfect! What was it that that Russian customer called you once, Mum?"

"Arthur, think very carefully about what you are about to say-"

"Ba, hmm baaaah- boo,"

Martin could sense danger.

"Arthur, maybe we should-"

"Babushka, ha! Oh, wait you didn't like that. Never mind." 

He looked at Carolyn placidly and she ground her teeth but didn't make a comment. Sometimes it was easier that way. 

 

Anyway, they were all set to go and when Douglas turned the handle and opened the door they were all treated to a cold blast of air which soon permeated the aeroplane and made Martin and Arthur feel guiltily glad that they weren't the ones about to brave it. Douglas looked at Martin seriously.

"Remember Martin, try to conserve as much heat as possible. I'm afraid you might have to turn off the heating at some point, but I've got a little something to give you just in case."

He reached out into his pocket and brought out a matchbox, tipping half of the small matches out and handing them to Martin.

"Douglas, won't you need these more-"

"I think it's best if I share them. Although I might not have been a scout, I would be an awful excuse for a skygod if I didn't know how to make a small fire!" 

It was an unusual amount of generosity from Douglas, and Martin closed his hand carefully around the precious matches and placed them into his inner pocket. He desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

"Cheerio then, and Arthur? Do make sure you look after Martin for us."

Arthur giggled as Martin let out a huffy,

"Hey!" 

But then he nodded solemnly.

"Don't you worry a bit, Douglas. I'll watch him for you." 

Martin grinned with Douglas as Arthur used his best 'Adult voice', and Doulas looked sadly at Martin.

"If we take too long, don't come looking for us. It will do us no good if you get lost too."

Martin gulped. Would he be able to stop Arthur from going after them if they were gone for days? Arthur could be pretty stubborn when he wanted to do something, and Martin wasn't wholly sure that he'd be able to stop himself for looking for them if they were truly gone for days. He couldn't lie though, that wouldn't be a good way to part.

"I'll try not to." 

Douglas frowned as if guessing his thoughts, but he obviously didn't want to part on bad terms. He turned to look at Carolyn who had been dreading her turn to speak; she hated goodbyes.

"Well, Arthur-"

But, a whirlwind of red and black, Arthur had flung himself on Carolyn and buried his face in her shoulder. She spluttered indignantly.

"Arthur, cease this at once! I shall be fine, oof!"

"Love you Mum, be safe and watch for the bears!" 

She patted him on the back, looking to the heavens.

"I…love you too you silly little thing. Now come on, I don't need you restricting my blood flow as well as this horrible weather."

Reluctantly, Arthur parted from his mother and she straightened her coat.

"Goodbye Arthur, Martin. If I come back and find G-ERTI burnt to the ground, let's just say bears aren't the worst things to deal with around here."

"Wouldn't dream of it Carolyn. Stay safe for us?"

"Of course. Well, goodbye." 

Carolyn and Douglas began to descend the steps from G-ERTI, already shivering slightly even though the sky was a steely sort of blue and blessedly snowless. Martin hoped fervently that they were going to be ok, and he and Arthur watched their peculiar black shapes plod along the snowy ground, seemingly swallowed by the endless whiteness that loomed around them. Even when they couldn't see them anymore, still Arthur and Martin gazed dreamily out of the door, hardly noticing the frigid air and cruel wind which licked eagerly at their faces. Arthur was stood quite close to Martin, and Martin only broke out of his reverie when he realised that Arthur was shaking, although Arthur didn't seem to have noticed or care.

"They're gone."

"Yes."

There didn't seem to be much else to say.

"It's so white. That sounds stupid, even I know that, but it's just so, so-"

"So much. I know what you mean. Why don't we close the door?" 

Reluctantly, even though Martin could see how pale his skin was under the bruises with the cold, Arthur drew back and closed the door. It seemed rather anti climactic to be inside the familiar interior or the aeroplane, but Martin knew they'd had more than their fair share of excitement over the last few days. Martin felt a little at a loss as to what they should do now, as he realised that he had never really spent that long alone with Arthur. Of course, there had been the odd time when they had been sharing a hotel room or the fateful time they had accidentally driven the baggage car into the bridge in Johannesburg, but Martin knew he faced an unknowable amount of time just with the excitable steward. Martin was a very lonesome person; he had grown up without many friends, had spent most of his adult years in a dusty attic room by himself, and the thought of being trapped with someone else was both daunting and a little thrilling. He was just glad that Arthur didn't really understand the concept of small talk. Arthur was still staring at the door rather forlornly, so Martin gathered up his courage and decided to plough ahead.

"Right, so now they've gone, what should we do?"

Arthur's eyes darted to Martin, obviously startled that he was being asked for his opinion on what they should do. Usually Martin tried to take control of a situation when he got the chance, for example if either Douglas or Carolyn weren't there, so the suggestion that Arthur should think of something took him a little by surprise. Martin saw him crease his face in concentration, an oddly endearing quality of Arthur's. Which was an odd thought.

"Well, if we can't have the telly on then I suppose there's always the games cupboard?"

"What, with only the two of us?"

Immediately, Martin felt cruel as Arthur flushed with embarrassment. 

"No, you're right, stupid, we can't-"

"No, no, alright, let's have a look."

Martin hurried to the games cupboard before Arthur could get up so that Arthur didn't try and lean forwards and hurt his neck, but as he was rummaging through he heard a soft padding of footsteps and could feel the presence of Arthur close behind him, peering into the opened cupboard with him. There were a few varieties of colourful boxes laying hopefully in the cupboard, but Martin didn't really have a great knowledge of board games as he tended to be abysmal at them. This was more Arthur's area, but Martin had yet to play a board game with Arthur which he actually knew all of the rules to. He tried sifting through them.

"Err, oh, I don't know which one we should play-"

"Ooh, what about monopoly! I love monopoly!"

Martin groaned.

"For god's sake, not monopoly! That game goes on forever and you hardly know how to play it Arthur!"

There was a small but very poignant pause after this outburst, after which Arthur let out a small and wobbly voice. 

"We don't have to play anything. I'll go and do something else if you want."

Oh no, not even ten minutes into being alone with Arthur and Martin had already failed in his promise to keep Arthur happy. It was just that the effort of trying not to panic about their situation was taking a toll on Martin greatly and making his mood blacken, but taking it out on Arthur was akin to squashing a very fluffy and happy puppy. He grabbed the lurid yellow monopoly box firmly.

"Sorry, Arthur. Let's play monopoly."

"No, it's fine-"

"I _want_ to. Come on, what if I let you have Convent Garden as a peace offering?"

He could tell that Arthur wasn't wholly convinced by his manufactured enthusiasm, but he couldn't resist this offer. They both settled on the floor near the galley as there was a fair bit of floor space here and Martin set up the board. He let Arthur sort out the fake money as he thought that at least it would give the game an unexpected flavour.

"I've got to say, it's going to be a relief not having to play against Douglas; he _must_ hoard money. There's no way he always ends up with that much."

"Oh yeah, that's cos he usual nicks your £100s when you aren't looking."

"WHAT?"

"…Although thinking back, I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

Fuming slightly, Martin set out the cards. Arthur rummaged in the box for the pieces, his hands soon enclosing on the silver figurines. He looked wistfully at the little dog which made Martin laugh, as he knew that was Arthur's favourite piece.

"Yes, you are allowed to have the dog, Arthur. Could you pick one for me?"

"Ooh yes! Aww, I wish they had an aeroplane- wouldn't that be brilliant?"

"Yes, maybe we should write to the makers. I'll have to be another, but if you give me the thimble I might cry."

"Ugh, no one should ever be the thimble. No, if we can't use a plane then you'll have to be the ship, Skip, because a ship has a captain and you're the Captain. Ha!" 

Arthur seemed very pleased with his deduction, and after placing both pieces down they begun to play. Martin had expected it to be a bit of a drag, but the fact that neither of them could particularly remember the rules (the sheet which contained the rules had been ripped to shreds in a particularly memorable argument between Douglas and Carolyn about whether you could add your own 'mansions' if you stacked two houses on top of each other), so they just made up silly rules themselves. Soon, Martin was richer than an oil tycoon and Arthur had even managed to put down a hotel, even though Martin told him that he didn't think you were supposed to put them on the 'jail' space. Even though the thought of Douglas and Carolyn trudging through the dismal snow was ever present in their minds, they were soon engaged in laugher and silliness, a soft glow in the amounting darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear lord Monopoly. If you have never played it, you are lucky. It's a good game but can go on forever!


	5. I will lead you through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, there's nothing like waking up to a nice angst sandwich. I've not been feeling very good, so this has probably been reflected slightly on poor Arthur and Martin. It's funny, every time I settle to write a story, it always ends up being twice as long than planned, hope you all like long stories! ;)

 

Laughter. If Martin had been asked what sound he thought he would hear if he was trapped in the middle of nowhere with a soon to be fuel starved aircraft, he would never have said laughter. But after playing two hours of one of the most ridiculous games he had ever played in his life, Arthur insisting that they cross out the names of the places on the board and replace them with places they had all flown to together, the aeroplane was ringing with it. Martin had joked to Arthur that the silver boot was an integral part of the game and that if someone rolled a number over ten then they would have to put it on the board and let it chase them every turn and Arthur, being the gullible person he was, had embraced this as gospel. It was quite something to hear Arthur scream,

"The boot! The boot! AGH it's chasing me again, Skip!" 

Especially when Arthur was the one who was pushing the boot around the board. Eventually though, after a furiously battled two hours they settled on a draw. Martin knew that if they had been playing with Douglas and Carolyn they probably would have played forever until one of them, almost always Douglas, emerged victorious. Martin bent down to pack away the game and Arthur leaned back on his chair, resting his neck which he had accidentally been leaning down with trying to get closer to the board. In the absence of the excitement that the game brought, the sound of his stomach rumbling sounded plainly in the quiet interior. Arthur shot a sideways glance at Martin.

"Ah, sorry."

"No, no it's fine. I'm absolutely starving as well. Why don't we eat some of the cheese? It's probably not going to last very long inside the plane whilst it's warm anyway."

Arthur was glad that Martin suggested eating the cheese, as he couldn't bring himself to ask if he could eat anything; he probably would have suffered silently all day if Martin hadn't given him permission to eat from their supplies, something that Martin hadn't realised yet. He went to the fridge and brought out the cheese that Douglas had left behind, the squishy brie, and tried to ignore his stomach protesting that it was hardly enough for one person, let alone two. Martin, having returned the board game to it's rightful place in the cupboard, turned to see Arthur moving down from the galley and called to him.

"Now that we've taken the cheese out of the fridge we might as well turn it off. There's no point wasting energy on it and if we need to keep anything cold we can just bung it outside." 

"Righto, Skip!"

Arthur reversed back towards the galley and fumbled with the fridge, soon working out how to turn it off. Dimly, he wondered what the next thing would be that they would have to turn off, but he pushed that depressing thought from his mind for the moment. Martin had settled on one of G-ERTI's passenger seats, so he sat down on the row next to him, handing him half of the cheese. After he had made himself comfortable on the chair, Martin glanced up and saw a curious look on the steward's face as he looked at Martin over his small wedge of cheese.

"What is it?"

When Arthur spoke his voice was a whisper.

"How do you stand it?"

"Stand what?"

It seemed like Arthur was trying to pick his words delicately, but curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"Being hungry. I've only tried it for a little bit now and it's horrible." 

Oh, Martin knew exactly how he was feeling. How often had he come home to an empty kitchen, having to sit on his bed with the gnawing of his stomach the only thing his brain could focus on, the rumble of it the only sound in the room? If Martin had been someone else, he might have felt a grim sort of satisfaction that finally someone understood what it was like to be in his situation, felt annoyed that well looked after Arthur was complaining about something he suffered from innumerable times, but Arthur looked so genuinely distressed that Martin felt any trace of annoyance drift away. He looked up and met Arthur's worried eyes, trying to convey a sense of calmness, and when he spoke he tried to keep his voice soft.

"Let me show you what I usually do. Look at the food."

With an effort, Arthur brought his eyes away from Martin and stared at the lonely piece of cheese in his hand. He was a little confused, but eager to hear what Martin had to say. 

"Right. Don't think about how little of it there is, don't think about what it's going to be like when you've finished it. Try and relax, and think about how filling it's going to be."

Ah, instructions. Arthur may be guilty of being a little scatterbrained, but he could deal with clear instructions, and Martin's voice was oddly hypnotic, filling his ears and guiding him. Martin felt a bit of a thrill watching Arthur following his orders completely, unlike most people who usually ignored him or thought him stupid.

"Now, don't look at it and take a bite. Try and forget how much of it you have and imagine it filling you up, bite by bite."

Arthur closed his eyes, his eyebrows knitted together in complete concentration. He could understand Martin's logic towards this, and while it wasn't perfect it did serve to make the miserly meal last longer than it would have done had he just eaten it whole like he had planned. Martin watched him slowly finish off the cheese and munched his own without much thought. When Arthur finished, he opened his eyes and seemed to consider Martin in a new light.

"Does it work much?"

Martin offered him a sad smile.

"Not much, no. But it did the first couple of times I tried it." 

They stared at each other for a little while, neither quite knowing what to say next. It was odd for Arthur to be so quiet, but Martin suspected that he was feeling just as tired as he was and he wondered how they were going to man the radio when they were both so exhausted. They broke out of their reverie when Arthur's eyes drifted away from Martin to out of the window behind him, and he let out a sigh, half longingly.

"It's snowing again. Oh, it's so pretty."

Martin could tell that Arthur was itching to go outside, but he knew what a bad idea that would be even though he almost felt the pull of exploring that pure expanse of white just begging for footprints and exploration.

"Arthur, I'm sorry but we just can't go outside unless it's absolutely necessary."

There was another huff of sadness.

"I wish we could have a snowball fight. It's impossible to be unhappy in a snowball fight."

"I know, but there would be no way of warming us up. No nice warm clothes to get back into." 

"Yeah, it's a stupid idea."

Martin was just about to answer when he heard an odd noise splitting the air. It was very strange, there had only been the sound of their own voiced ringing through the aeroplane for so long that this new noise seemed distinctly alien. It was an odd sort of buzzing that seemed to be coming from the flight deck-

"The radio!"

Martin jumped to his feet immediately and ran pell-mell to the radio, cursing his idiocy for not understanding what it was sooner. To be fair, it was making an unusually fuzzy crackling noise which sounded different to its usually reliable crackle, but he grabbed it nevertheless, his heart thudding a fierce tattoo against his chest.

"Hello? This is Golf Tango India, we are stuck, I repeat stuck…hello?" 

Arthur was staring at him agog and with a desperate hopefulness in his eyes, and they both strained their ears to try and understand the vague crackle which could have been a badly distorted voice. This went on for a few more seconds, then the radio went silent. The silence that this odd crackling had left was tangible, an almost physical tension in the air and they both couldn't believe what had just happened. Arthur jumped as Martin crashed down into the captain's seat, his head in his hands and voice shaking tremulously.

"There was someone there, I just know it! There _has_ to be, there has to be _someone."_

Arthur was scared at the small man swiftly unravelling before him. Skip seemed to have suddenly been gripped in a vicious tide of emotions and he didn't know how to comfort him, if he even wanted to be comforted.

"Maybe, maybe they heard us."

"No they didn't, oh god we're going to die out here, we're going to _die_ -"

"Martin."

"We're going to freeze, or starve, we're going to die-"

" _Martin._ "

Arthur had quietly plodded up to Martin's chair and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder to calm him down. Martin stopped babbling and despite his utter despair leant into the unexpected touch like a lifeline.

"At least we know the radio's working a little bit, right? And they could have heard us. So, we just have to wait."

Arthur's voice was firm, full of a defiance against their hopeless situation that Martin admired and only hoped that he could replicate. He had wanted to be strong, wanted to be the one who told Arthur that everything would be alright, but in the captain's chair being faced with a failed radio exchange and a clear view through the front window of the vast and ever looming expanse of white had unravelled Martin's carefully wound control. It was all so futile, the captain's chair, trying to survive, going to look for help. What chance did they have? Carolyn and Douglas, poor unlucky sods, were in that snowstorm, in all likelihood fighting an inevitable death against the cold that was coming for them all, and here he was sitting in a stupid, meaningless chair and _failing._ He looked at Arthur, he couldn't help himself, the words tumbling from his mouth in a loathsome, messy heap. 

"I'm scared."

Martin hated admitting his emotions and this admission made him feel like a ten year old boy, alone and helpless. It seemed to send a ripple through Arthur, whose heart had clenched horribly at the tiny and utterly despondent voice that had emerged from Martin. He didn't know what made him do it, but he felt like he needed something to hold on to, an anchor in this chaotic and strange world. He brought his arms around the chair, around Martin's shoulders and spoke a whisper that fluttered past his ginger curls and into his ear.

"So am I." 

Martin closed his eyes and succumbed to the touch. 

 

 

***

 

Neither man knew how long they stayed there, staring out of the window without speaking a word and just being close in each others company. Martin was faintly surprised that he didn't feel any embarrassment in have Arthur so close, and he found that he was glad that he was at least stuck with someone with whom he could be like this with and know that the other didn't, _couldn't_ , think that he was needy or weak. Although the chair was preventing Martin from feeling Arthur's body pressed against him, he could feel that the arms around his shoulders were strong, and Arthur's breath was a comforting warmness which he could feel slightly on his neck as Arthur was bending slightly to be level with the chair. Arthur's brain was surprisingly clear, which was unusual for him, as he could only feel thankful that his touch had prevented Martin from getting too hysterical. Eventually though, his bent position began to make his muscles feel cramped, and even Martin could feel him shifting to try and stretch out his muscles. He realised with a jolt that Arthur hadn't left the aeroplane since it had crash landed. He remembered his words about not leaving unless necessary, but his shouting had left him weak and the walls loomed, claustrophobic.

"How about we go for a little walk outside? You haven't been out yet."

Arthur looked rather wistfully out of the front of the aeroplane, but he felt a certain trepidation about going outside, Martin's previous words obviously ringing in his ears. 

"Nah, it's alright. We should probably just stay in and listen out for the radio."

They were wise words, but Martin frowned at the now silent radio in contemplation. They knew that it was working in some form or another, but it hadn't rung out in all the time they had been stuck in G-ERTI since they landed until before, and it had been annoyingly silent since. They wouldn't be out for long, and after spending hours inside the not precisely cramped but definitely not roomy aircraft Martin was definitely beginning to feel like the walls were closing in on him. It might do them a bit of good to have a brief wander outside; it might prepare them…just in case.

"I don't think the radio will ring when we're out, Arthur. Come on, I know you want to and I can see a clear patch of ground with your name on it."

Arthur's face shone brightly as he took Martin's comment literally, as he expected he might. He peered excitedly out of the front window, scanning the ground.

"Ooh, really? Where?"

Martin laughed, but didn't feel the need to answer, rising stiff-limbed from his chair. Arthur was bouncing on his feet in glee and after they both began to walk down G-ERTI's corridor he would have launched himself out of the door if Martin hadn't have grabbed his arm.

 

"Arthur! You need to put your coat on. Remember our trip to St Petersburg? I know it seems warm enough in here but I can promise you it's going to be freezing outside."

Impatiently, Arthur threw on his coat which had been lying on the chair still in the square that Martin had folded it into yesterday, waiting for Martin to follow suit. When Martin had gotten himself buttoned up accordingly, Arthur practically zoomed out into the waiting snow. It was unbelievable that someone who had been injured such as Arthur and suffering from hunger could move that quickly across the ground, but it was Arthur, the man who got excited when he found a penny from his birth year or when he saw any form of fluffy animal, that they were talking about. Martin gripped the handles of G-ERTI's stairs carefully, he'd had the foresight to bring gloves at least, and followed Arthur less exuberantly but nevertheless glad to be out of the aeroplane for a little bit. He had seen Arthur in the snow before of course, but it was always somewhat cheering to see him leaping around in it, even if he didn't want to admit it. When Martin had finally descended the stairs, Arthur looked up from a slight distance away, his cheeks already becoming merrily pink with the cold. 

"It's so crunchy, Skip! Much crunchier than the snow in Fitton!"

"I know what you mean, the snow in Fitton's a bit more like a grey slush that gets in your shoes."

Arthur resumed his stomping in the snow, looking back at the tracks that his footsteps left in extreme excitement. Martin was momentarily confused when he saw how many footprints there were until he realised with a jolt that Arthur must have been trailing the footsteps that Douglas and Carolyn had left behind, the snow not having been heavy enough to cover them just yet. He felt guilty once again that he and Arthur were stuck in the monotonous yet relatively comfortable airfield and wondered how the other two were faring in their mission. It was getting on for late afternoon now and they hadn't returned; surely that was a good sign? Or…did it mean they were lost? Martin decided that he wasn't going to worry until the evening came. Although he had only been worrying briefly, his mind had been focused very much on that task, so he was very unprepared when he heard a very loud giggle of delight and felt something collide with his hat, knocking it off. He turned round to see Arthur next to a small pile of snowballs and trying to pull off an innocent expression, which faltered slightly as Martin looked at him in silence. Taking advantage of Arthur's hesitation, Martin darted down and took a handful of snow, lobbing it forcefully at Arthur; he squealed in shock as it hit him in the shoulder. 

"Woah, surprised me a bit there, Skip!"

"You knocked my hat off! This means war!" 

And, despite the fact that Martin had told Arthur they shouldn't have a snowball fight, they began one nevertheless, pitching furiously made snowballs at each other and trying to hide behind G-ERTI. Martin wasn't particularly good at aiming, unlike Arthur who had a surprising accuracy, but he was very good at dodging them, so it was mostly Arthur chasing him and pelting hastily made snowballs at him. It was utterly ridiculous, Martin was an adult, a _captain_ , but he was having an absolute whale of a time. He could only remember very few snowball fights from his childhood in Wokingham, and Arthur hardly ever had anyone to join in with him when he was younger, so it was a sort of a treat for both of them. Running in a mad  dash around G-ERTI made up for their numb hands, and soon they were both gasping for breath and even feeling rather warm. Bending slightly because of a stitch in his side, Martin made a little 'T' with his hand frantically.

"Truce." he gasped.

Arthur stopped behind him and let the remaining snowballs in his hands fall with a steady thump to the ground.  His hair was wet from where the bits of ice had fallen from when the snowballs had exploded on impact and he was trying to rub his hands together to encourage some warmth; his gloves were soaked. Martin had a niggling feeling that this had been a bad idea, but he was still feeling the pump of energy from their little exertion and it was far more favourable than moping around in the aeroplane. They both leant against the cold metal casing of G-ERTI, Martin peering sideways at Arthur to check that he wasn't leaning any of his exposed skin against it, as he really didn't want to have to get their miniature bottle of vodka out to unstick him. Arthur's cheeks had gone very red now, as well as his nose, and he looked exhausted but very sweet. Hardly anyone ever allowed him to do what he wanted, and Martin was suddenly pleased that he had manage to put that sparkle in his eye. Arthur had noticed where they were leant.

"Oh, we're near the fuel tank. Did you ever find out what that leak was about?"

"No. Douglas and I were going to have a look but we reckoned that it was a bit pointless because there's no way of us fixing it here as this isn't a proper airfield so we don't have any equipment. We might do more damage and cause us to lose more fuel than we already have done. Now we're out of the air, we seem to be losing it slower. Well, we've been able to heat the plane for the moment."

Arthur could hear the hesitation in his voice and asked tentatively.

"How long do we have until we have to turn it off?"

Martin sighed sadly.

"We can only guess. A few days? No more than that."

There was a brief silence as they both contemplated this. Arthur looked up at the slowly darkening sky, the cold catching up on him as a realisation dawned steadily, filling him with horror. He looked at Martin, his eyes wide and frantic

"They haven't come back." 

Martin had dreaded the moment when Arthur would finally realised this. It was advancing inevitably towards the evening and there had been no sign of Douglas and Carolyn returning. If they had managed to find help, they surely would have managed to radio by now, and because they hadn't…well. Martin spoke quickly, trying to reassure himself.

"It's not quite the evening yet. We've got to give them a bit of time, Arthur."  

"But they're supposed to be getting back here _before_ it gets dark. Look at the sky!"

Martin couldn't help looking; the sky had been an omnipresent grey, oppressive and menacing, and as the sun set it was slowly becoming more gloomy. Martin could see Arthur shivering, and decided that he couldn't let him work himself up out here. He spoke gently.

"Come on, Arthur. Let's get warmed up. I'm sure…I'm sure we'll hear from them soon enough."

He turned, half expecting Arthur to ignore him and remain there like a worried little statue, but he dutifully followed Martin back into the aeroplane. It was very cold inside; Martin had turned the heating just low enough so that the plane wouldn't freeze but so that they wouldn't waste too much energy on heating it when they weren't even inside. He turned it up so that they would warm up faster, realising in trepidation that this was probably the last time that he would be able to do that. He delved into a cupboard and brought out their two emergency blankets, passing one to Arthur who received it silently.

"You should probably take off your wet coat." Martin suggested gently, peeling off his own. His clothes underneath weren't _too_ wet, well, his trousers weren't as he and Arthur had been aiming more for the torso, so his shirt was wet if anything. He rummaged in his suitcase for the spare shirt he had planned to change into when they arrived at their destination and prepared to put it on. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Arthur was still sat there unmoving, still in his wet coat. He spoke crossly.

"Arthur, you need to get changed or you'll never warm up."

Arthur just stared at him blankly, so he sighed and reached up on tiptoes to grab Arthur's bag. He quickly found a shirt and threw it to Arthur, who received it quietly. 

"You can get changed in front of me, you know. I'm not bothered." Martin said this in a slightly nettled voice, and Arthur shook his head.

"Oh no, I'm not bothered about that. I was just…thinking."

He sounded oddly contemplative, so warning bells immediately rang in Martin's brain. He settled on the seat opposite him, placing his shirt in his lap.

"About what? I've told you, we can only wait-" 

"No, not about that. Have I ever told you about when Mum left Dad?"

Martin reeled; he had not been expecting that. It was such an unexpected topic that he couldn't help but splutter a confused,

"Err, no?"

Arthur seemed to chew his words carefully before answering. 

"Well, I know you know about them divorcing ten years ago because Mum got G-ERTI and we started MJN and then you came and- well, you know all that. But Mum wasn't really with Dad even before they got divorced."

Martin began to feel distinctly uncomfortable as Arthur talked about Carolyn's failed marriage; it wasn't that he didn't care, he just didn't want Carolyn to think he was snooping. He had to listen though; Arthur's mood was very odd. 

"Right. But what's this got to do with…?"

"Sorry. Well, they must have been in love or maybe just liked each other a bit at one point because I remember when Mum wasn't so shouty and Dad wasn't so mean, but I remember one day when they had a massive argument, I think it was about me because I remember Dad saying to Mum that I was a little weirdo and that I wasn't like either of them and he couldn't believe he was my father."

"Arthur-"

"-So, Mum got really annoyed at that, and she came upstairs and told me we were leaving. I didn't really want to leave- Dad was scary, but I wouldn't be able to pack all my toys and colouring stuff and my shoes and, well, you understand. So I was crying, Dad was still shouting and Mum just…left. Dad didn't speak much, but he mostly left me alone, which was fine with me."

He paused, but Martin simply did not know what to say, so Arthur ploughed on.

"I waited. See, I was used to Mum going away because she was an air hostess, did you know that? But she always rang to talk to me when she'd gone to wherever she was going; it's one of the reasons I wanted to be a pilot really, so when it was my turn I could ring her up too. But she didn't speak to me, and I _missed_ her Skip. I know she can be a bit mean and shouty, but she's my only mum and I really, really _missed_ her."

Martin reached over to squeeze his very cold, very shaky hand.

"Then, about a week after she'd gone, Mum came back. Her and Dad didn't mention it, but when she came up to tuck me in she whispered and said she would always come back for me. So, that's why I've been so upset, Skip. She didn't leave me and I can't, _I can't_ leave her."

Throughout the end of this little speech, his voice had begun to be overcome with sobbing, and Martin felt very, very out of his element. He felt so absolutely awful now for allowing them to split up; what if something had happened to Carolyn? Or Douglas; Martin knew that Arthur would still be utterly broken if Douglas was harmed. But there was no way of knowing, an he was confronted with a devastated Arthur which was frightening enough. But Arthur had comforted him when he had fallen to pieces, so he decided to follow what Arthur had done. Although he was still wearing a damp coat, he shuffled to the seat next to Arthur and drew him into his arms, meeting no protest. He let Arthur sob into his shoulder and it was the oddest feeling; no one had ever cried into his shoulder before, and it was strangely satisfying to be the one doing the comforting. He rubbed soothing circles onto Arthur's back, privately thinking that the lack of food, god his stomach was rumbling, and the stress of their situation was just proving too much for Arthur, causing him to dwell on the darker parts of his thoughts. He honestly hadn't thought that Arthur would have a dark part to his thoughts, but he was after all only human. He remembered from somewhere that Carolyn very occasionally patted Arthur on his head to calm him down, so he smoothed his hands over Arthur's brown curls softly. This seemed to have an immediate effect; although Martin could tell he was crying, he was much quieter. He really needed to get Arthur out of his wet clothes, otherwise he would be ill as well as distressed. He spoke in his most gentle voice.

"Arthur? We need to get out of these wet clothes. Come on, I'll help."

The voice in reply was soft, croaked.

"I'm sorry, I'm so stup-"

But Martin put a finger on his lips to stop him, causing Arthur to look up at him in shock.

"Don't be sorry. If my Mum…I understand. It's fine to be upset and I don't want you to pretend to be fine when you're not, ok? If you tell me when you feel sad then maybe it won't build up as much." 

Arthur blinked up at him, then nodded against his shoulder before heaving his body up and allowing Martin to take off his coat. He let Arthur put on his own shirt as Martin needed to put on his own, and soon they were much dryer and infinitely more comfortable. Arthur, obviously, still looked morose, and Martin decided that they really should eat otherwise his stomach would eat itself; he imagined Arthur was faring even worse.

"Right. I know what will cheer us up- pie. Well, you're the culinary expert on this plane, would you care to show me how it's done?" 

Looking relieved at the prospect of food, Arthur led the way into the galley. Martin asked him obvious questions about how to use the microwave, where the cutlery was, questions that Arthur knew the answer to, and soon they were chattering, neither alluding to Arthur or even Martin's breakdown. They settled on eating the pie next to each other, both stabbing the forks at the same plate and often jarring them together, giggling especially when they collided forks. They sat rather closer together than they usually would have done, but neither mentioned this and neither complained. When they finished the pie, Arthur lay his head on Martin's shoulder and snoozed, and Martin couldn't resist reaching over and patting Arthur's head, hoping and hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Arthur, poor Martin. But in some ways, isn't it good they are stuck together?


	6. Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's a tip for anyone trying to write- always research! Halfway through writing this I realised I didn't have a clue how aeroplanes were heated, and now I know, or at least understand a bit more. Quite interesting actually, all of this aeroplane related research! 
> 
> As ever, thank you for taking your time to read this story!

When Arthur awoke some hours later, he could tell from the darkened interior of G-ERTI that it was deeply into night time, and could see only blackness outside the uncovered windows. That was unusual- if they had ever been forced to stay on the aeroplane throughout the night they usually drew the blinds on the windows, and he wondered briefly why Martin hadn't done this. Then, with a surge of understanding, he realised that he was practically lay on Martin's lap, effectively preventing him from moving. He could tell that Martin was awake, his breathing didn't have the steady, comfortable rhythm of sleep, and Arthur wondered for how long he had been sat there, diligently waiting for the buzz of the radio that was doomed to never come. He felt overcome with guilt; hadn't Martin also stayed up the previous night? With a slight shake to dispel the last vestiges of sleep from his mind, Arthur drew himself up, surprising Martin who had assumed that he was still in a deep slumber.

"Arthur? Why are you awake?"

"How long have you been sat here?"

When Martin's voice answered, it contained a clear tone of embarrassment, though he was trying his best to cover it up.

"Oh er, not that long. Fine, quite a while but it's nothing that I can't handle. It's my duty as _Captain_ to ensure that we don't miss the radio."

Martin had quickly moved his arms from where they had been resting around Arthur, desperately hoping that he hadn't noticed, and although Arthur didn't give any indication that waking up in such close proximity to Martin was strange he could feel the absence of Martin's arms as an almost tangible thing. He didn't think that he and ever woken up being held by someone before.

"Skipper, I know that's your duty and all but you need to _sleep._ If I don't get enough sleep it makes me feel grouchy and my eyes hurt and I just spend the next day wanting a snooze. I don't mind staying up for a bit to listen for the radio. I'm feeling quite refreshed, actually."

Martin tried weakly to protest.

"But, but it's fine! I don't mind!"

"Well, _I_ do. right, how about you get yourself a little sleep and I'll stay up and if anything happens I'll wake you up straight away? I'm awake now; I might as well stay up."

Martin could tell from Arthur's tone of voice that he was going to be immovable on this subject, and he sighed, resigned. He had to admit that he was feeling rather tired, and as he had been unwilling to move from his unusually comfortable seat with Arthur he didn't have much to do except watch outside slowly descend into darkness and worry frantically about how time was frittering away and that the others still hadn't returned. He did not at all want to remind Arthur of this fact since his little breakdown earlier, but he himself was starting to feel very, very discomfited. Sleep beckoned, and Martin found that he simply didn't have the strength to refuse so lay back on the chair and wiggled a bit to get comfortable. He heard a short sort of laugh and felt Arthur take hold of him, bringing Martin's head down onto his lap.

"Your turn."

 

*** 

 

 

It was rather serene inside G-ERTI, as the only sound that could be heard was Martin's gentle breathing mixing in with a soft hum from the aeroplane itself. Usually when Arthur was by himself he usually hummed or sang a little song to entertain himself, but he knew that he couldn't do that with Skip on his lap. That was strange in itself as he was sure that Martin would splutter and protest, perhaps insist that he was not a child and did not need pampering to. But he hadn't said a word, and Arthur could tell that he had fallen asleep quickly and easily. Arthur tried singing songs in his head, but soon that became too difficult because it made him want to sing them out loud, so he stopped and just allowed his mind to drift around focusing on nothing in particular. The sky was beginning to become slightly brighter now as the night steadily faded and Arthur shivered as the ice covered surroundings became clearer and clearer. At first it was almost pleasant being surrounded by so much pure white, but the longer they stayed out here the more disconcerting the lack of surroundings were. It just seemed to exemplify the fact that they were so very alone. 

Arthur shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with looking outside. He frowned; was it him or did G-ERTI seem to be much colder than it had been before? Thinking perhaps that being sat in the same place and staring out at the cold expanse of land was just playing tricks on him, Arthur tried to push the panic from his mind and ignore the fact that he was getting increasingly colder. He waited and waited, light peeked tentatively through the windows and soon there was enough light inside the aeroplane for Arthur to have something to look at rather than vague shapes. He could clearly see Martin now, his sleeping face looking so _peaceful_ , his mouth slightly parted and beautiful. Arthur really didn't want to have to wake him up, but he could feel Martin himself begin to shiver even in his sleep.

"Skip?"

Watching Martin wake up was a lovely thing. He tried to burrow into Arthur, then his eyes slowly opened, still looking slightly dozy.

"Hmm?"

"It's…it's really cold."

"We are in the middle of Russia, Arthur."

"No, I know that, I mean it's really cold _in here._ "

As if struck, Martin's eyes flew open, all traces of sleepiness evaporating. He seemed to register the distinct lack in temperature as he sat up and tried to draw his jacket closer around him, gazing wildly around.

"No, oh no, the heating! Something must have gone wrong."

Arthur bit his lip. If there was something wrong with the heating then there was absolutely nothing that he and Martin could do about it without any equipment or knowledge of how to repair an aircraft. It was a blow; they had expected the heating to have lasted for at least a few more days and if it indeed wasn't working then they could fall victim to the omnipresent and malevolent cold pressing in at all sides.

"What should we do? Should we go and have a look at the engine?"

Martin darted his eyes to Arthur, noting how the steward had gone unusually pale but looked determined not to panic. And if Arthur, _Arthur_ who panicked when they didn't have any matching cutlery wasn't panicking then, well, he as the Captain was not going to do something as common as panic. 

"Yes, I think we should at last try and work out what's happened. Damn it, Douglas and I should have had a proper look at it before they left!" 

They both began to make their way down the plane, grabbing at their coats which had grown cold along with everything else inside the aircraft but had miraculously dried overnight. Although the aeroplane was much colder than it had been when they'd had the heating on, it was not freezing yet, and Martin half hoped that the heating might not be wholly broken and would keep the inside at this admittedly low but not terrible temperature. As the blast of frigid air hit them when they opened the door, Martin felt a renewed sense of guilt that Carolyn and Douglas had been braving this for god knows how long, wherever they were. Arthur was quiet, seeming to understand that in this grave situation that it probably wouldn't be helpful to have inane chatter and that Martin wasn't in the mood for it. However, when they entered the hold in search of having a look at the inside of the engine, Arthur thought he might explode with all of the questions rattling inside his head.

"So, why are we going to have a look at the engine if the heating's not working, Skip?"

Martin sighed and Arthur braced himself for his annoyance, but Martin wasn't actually angry with him, in fact it was a relief to discuss the problem. 

"I'm not actually after the engine, Arthur. Although we should be mindful about the fuel leak, aeroplanes are actually heated with something called a heat exchanger and I'm not wholly sure where it is which is ridiculous because I know I should. Douglas would laugh at me for that."

Arthur tried to absorb this information, but it just created hundreds of new questions. He realised that he had never actually wondered how aeroplanes were heated; it seemed to have been something that he had just taken for granted, though he appreciated it all the same.

"So you think there might be a problem with one of these, er, heat exchangers? What do they look like?"

"I hope there isn't, because if it's broken that will cause even more problems for us, worse problems than G-ERTI freezing. I think it's a kind of tube, it should be quite close, aha! I think it's over there!"

They both hurried over to where Martin was pointing, at an almost nondescript looking piece of the aircraft that Arthur would have just walked past if it hadn't been pointed out to him. Although Martin wasn't a mechanic, he would have been disgusted with himself if he hadn't made his knowledge of aircrafts thorough enough to know how the aeroplane was heated and he bent down to examine it, keeping a safe distance away just in case. It only really took one glance to take in the problem and he groaned.

"Oh no."

"What? What's wrong?"

"It's cracked. Look, the side's cracked there."

Arthur gazed at the side of the box where there was indeed a hefty sort of crack, and he did not like the look on Martin's face at all.

"Can we patch it up?"

"What with? Oh god, it must have happened when we crash-landed!"

"But the heating was fine until before!"

"I know, but it must have been struggling on, as G-ERTI does. I really don't want to, I really _really_ don't want to, but we're going to have to turn it off."

Arthur couldn't understand this. Yes, the heating wasn't on full, but it wasn't completely off yet. Surely this crack didn't matter as long as the aeroplane was still heated?

"Can't we just keep it on until the fuel runs out? It's only a crack."

Martin shook his head, his eyes settled glumly on the heat exchanger.

"We've got to turn it off. I said before that if there was a problem with this then being frozen wouldn't be the worse thing that would happen to us. I know that if there's a problem with this then it can leak carbon monoxide."

"Oh! Mum made me learn what that was! Carbon monoxide…"

Arthur trailed off, his mind chasing the memory of his mum attempting to teach him about health and safety. Usually he could remember nothing, but she had really tried hard to make him remember this, which was notable in itself as Carolyn usually gave up after ten minutes when attempting to teach Arthur something, and soon it clicked.

"Oh no, that's really bad isn't it?"

Martin was trying to be patient, _really_ trying, but the enormity of the problem made it practically impossible for him to be patient with Arthur at the moment, so he snapped before he could stop himself, 

" _Yes_ Arthur, yes it is. I really hope none has leaked out, though I suppose we would already be dead if that was the case."

But as soon as these words left his mouth, he instantly regretted it for Arthur looked so frightened at the venom in his voice and the implication of his words that he seemed ready to burst into tears.

"We could've died?"

"Yes, that's what carbon monoxide does. But don't worry, it must be alright- we're going to have to turn the heating completely off though and it's going to get really cold. And I'm not talking 'oh it looks like we're going to need gloves' sort of cold, I'm talking 'being stuck in a slowly freezing tube of metal surrounded by snow' sort of _freezing_." 

There was really no point being nasty about it, and Arthur looked at him with large, wide eyes full of hurt. He spoke in a little voice, not looking at Martin now but at the dirty floor beneath them.

"What are we going to do then?"

At that, Martin was flummoxed. Do? There was nothing they could do! They couldn't fix this, they might as well give up and…no. Suddenly, Martin was gripped with an utmost certainty that surprised him in its intensity. No, they weren't going to give up. He, Martin Crieff, did not _give up._ What would Douglas say? Something sarcastic no doubt, but he knew exactly how disappointed he would be if he knew that Martin had just given up. Arthur was looking at him coolly, as if anticipating a vitriolic remark and fully preparing himself. Martin drew himself up to his full, and not admittedly impressive, height.

"You're quite right. We're going to get through this."

Arthur grinned widely at him; yes, that was more like his Skipper. He had never told Martin, but one of the reasons why Arthur respected him so much was because he, despite many setbacks and failures, persevered until he achieved what he wanted, perhaps clawing his way desperately but never turning back or giving up on his dream. Arthur knew too much about letting go of what you truly wanted, had let his dream of becoming a pilot fade into dust, which is why he usually focused on the present rather than wailing about what could have been. He just felt blessed that his 'failure' had caused him to become far happier than he could have expected, for if he had become a pilot, would he ever have met Skip? Probably not, and if somehow their paths had miraculously crossed, they definitely wouldn't have the same relationship that they had now. Now that they had both resolved to do _something_ , their appalling situation, against the odds, seemed a little brighter. Arthur was looking at him expectantly, and Martin snapped to his most authoritative voice.

"Right then. I'll sort this out so it definitely doesn't leak any carbon monoxide, and how about you rummage round G-ERTI and gather as many clothes as possible or anything we can use to keep the heat in? We might have to rip some of the cushions off the chairs and Carolyn will raise a merry hell, but if we get out of this then I'm sure that will be the least of our troubles."

"Righto, Skip!"

And so, they both set out to complete their various tasks. It was a simple thing to turn off the heating, even if Martin felt a certain sense of foreboding as he did so, but he couldn't get Arthur's proud little smile out of his head. He hardly made anyone proud, but somehow seeing Arthur's shining eyes full of hope and gladness had filled him with a warmth that fought valiantly against the bitter wind which seeped into the hold. He stared around the small place; if worse came to worst, and no help was forthcoming, should he and Arthur brave the cold and attempt to follow in Douglas and Carolyn's footsteps? Then as he thought more about it, it hit him like a stab to the gut. Douglas had taken the only maps that they owned; if Martin and Arthur tried to follow them, they would certainly get lost. They couldn't even follow their footsteps because they would obviously have been covered by the time that he and Arthur would leave. They could only set blindly out into the forbidding landscape, knowing that they would probably never find G-ERTI again and possibly succumb to the harsh climate in a futile search. They hadn't thought about this, they had been filled with a certainty that they would return but they hadn't. Martin's brief, happy glow was replaced with a chill that set deeply into his bones, crushing all hopefulness. They were stuck here. 

 

 

*** 

 

 

When Martin made his way back into G-ERTI, he had already made his mind up not to tell Arthur about what he had just realised; he didn't want him to also be worrying, as there was just nothing they could do. He could see that Arthur had been very busy as there were various piles on the floor, one quite neatly containing both of their folded clothes from their travel bags, one with all of the blankets he had gathered from around the aeroplane and a messy sort of pile which contained some cloths and napkins. Arthur looked up gleefully when he heard Martin entering, and thrust a mug into his hand when he had clicked the door shut. Martin stared at it in confusion.

"But, the power, how?"

"Oh, I hope you don't mind; I rushed up here and put the kettle on first so that we could have one last hot cup of drink, you know, before it all turned off. I hope it's still warm!" Arthur answered breathlessly.

It was, and Martin was very glad to have something warming his already half numb hands. He took a sip, savouring what he suspected to be his last hot drink in a while.

"Cheers, Arthur. Right, before we sort all this stuff out, how about we have some food? We might as well."

Arthur had been desperately trying to ignore his stomach since he woke up, and he was immensely glad that Martin had mentioned it, and this time Martin picked up on this and frowned.

"Arthur, if you're feeling really hungry you should let me know. I, well it seems ridiculous, but I just forget sometimes." 

The unspoken 'I'm used to it' hung in the air and seemed to shimmer between them. Arthur decided then in that moment if they ever managed to get back to Fitton then he was going to make sure that Martin never had to feel like this again, even if he had to break into his flat and plant food shopping in there. They both moved into the galley and peered at their dwindling supply of food. Martin decided that they needed something sustaining, even if it meant they would have a bit less another day, even though he knew from experience that his future self would hate him for it.

"I think we should have a sandwich each, Arthur. I think we'll just suffer too much if we only have one between us."

Too hungry to care, Arthur nodded and they both took a sandwich each, the only two they had. Arthur tried to eat it slowly, but this took all the concentration that he had, so they ate in silence. When they were done, they cast about for anything that could serve as a distraction from the rest of the food. Martin had thought that maybe they could press some of their gathered fabric into the gaps around the door to try and prevent any air from coming in, but realised this was probably a stupid thought because aeroplanes were well known for being airtight, otherwise they wouldn't be airworthy. He could feel the aeroplane getting colder and colder the longer they stayed in there, but there wasn't anywhere else they could go. He saw the games cupboard out of the corner of his eye.

"Fancy a game of cards, Arthur?"

"Oh, yes, of course Skip! Oh," he suddenly looked very worried.

"I don't know that many."

Arthur usually watched in bemusement as Martin and Douglas played cards, which was very rarely because of course Douglas always won. Martin knew he was probably never going to win since the first time he played a card game with Douglas and he started it with the inevitable words of "When I got thrown out of a casino in Las Vegas for being a card shark", but he suspected that playing a card game with Arthur would have a pleasingly random element. He knew from experience that the only card game Arthur really knew was Snap, but he also remembered that Arthur may not look particularly brawny but he could slap his hands down on the cards in a very strong and painful way, which he wasn't really relishing the thought of. 

"I'll teach you something then, ever played Chase the Ace? My mum taught it to me when I was little."

"Oh wow! I liked your Mum Skip- I thought she was brilliant."

"You know what? I think she thought you were too."

Arthur beamed at him. it wasn't a lie- Wendy Crieff had indeed asked Martin if he was going to bring round 'that lovely lad Arthur' again any time soon, with a slight twinkle in her eye that he hadn't quite understood. He wondered with a pang if she knew he was missing yet. Actually, considering they hadn't met with their intended destination and obviously hadn't been heard from unless Carolyn and Douglas were somehow successful in their mission, surely someone would be looking for them by now, Herc at least? The thought was comforting, and he held onto it like a lifeline. He settled on a chair opposite Arthur and dealt out the cards, explaining the rules and noticing Arthur trying to listen with all his might. He may be a little confused sometimes, but when Arthur really put his mind to something he was unstoppable.

 

***

 

 

Usually, when Martin and Douglas tried to teach Arthur something it was disastrous, or at the very least stressful, but once again Martin was finding playing a game with Arthur to be immense fun. Although the game was a bit worthless with only two people, the point being that you weren't supposed to know who had the ace of spades but of course each knew when the other one had it, it somehow made it more fun to watch Arthur groan dramatically whenever he got the ace from Martin.

"Arthur, you're not supposed to let me know when you've got it."

"But of course you know when I've got it! Because I took it from you!"

"Yes alright, but I mean for future reference. You need to have a poker face."

"A what?"

"Arthur, it's got nothing to do with chimneys or Lady Gaga."

"Well, I wasn't thinking about either of those but now I am."

Martin cast his eyes to the heavens, but he was only pretending to be annoyed. As the game persisted they had layered more blankets on each other as the temperature dropped and the day was wearing on. How many days were they going to have to spend like this? Achieving nothing and staying put? Even though he was enjoying the card game, he always had one ear listening out for the buzz of the radio and still it continued its stony silence, which obviously meant that Carolyn and Douglas hadn't found any help. They were supposed to have come back by last night, and now it was almost evening again a day too late. A while after they had finished the game, they had settled back into a contemplative silence, which was only broken when Arthur spoke in a rather matter of fact voice.

"They haven't come back."

"No."

"And the radio hasn't buzzed."

"Yes."

"Which means they're probably lost."

"…Maybe."

There was a slight pause.

"I want to look for them."

" _NO."_

His vehement tone sliced through the air, stinging in its intensity. He tried to calm his voice down, but it was an immense effort.

"We promised, Arthur. Don't you remember?"

Martin didn't think he had ever seen Arthur look at him the way he was doing now. He looked like a strange mixture between fearful, shocked and angry, and he looked at Martin a little appraisingly.

"So you would stop me? You would actually stop me from going?"

Martin had barely registered that they had both stood up and were standing face to face, and he cursed the fact that he was the one who had to stare up at Arthur. Arthur's mixture of emotions seemed to be giving way to a deep, pervading anger, so much unlike the usually cheerful and sweet Arthur that Martin was even beginning to feel a little afraid, and Arthur's still bruised face was only adding to his menacing air. With his knitted brows and absolutely furious expression, for the first time Martin thought he looked like Gordon. 

"Yes. I don't want to lose you too."

Martin felt very, very small as Arthur seemed to loom over him, then, slowly like the air being let out of a balloon, Arthur seemed to deflate. He looked down at Martin, but this time he was just plain old Arthur, looking bruised, abashed and very, very sorry.

"Oh, Martin, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's all just a bit-"

"No, it doesn't matter. I understand."

And he did, he truly did. Although Arthur had frightened him slightly, Martin also wanted nothing more than to find Douglas and Carolyn. But that was a folly, and he didn't want to lose Arthur over something as stupid as thinking they could brave the outdoors and then getting lost. Arthur still looked ashamed at himself, and Martin saw that the sky had darkened again, and so there wasn't much point in them staying up any longer. 

"Come on, let's get some sleep. We might as well."

Staying silent as if he was afraid of turning back into the angry Arthur, Arthur plodded after him. There was the most room on the floor near the galley, so they spread all of the blankets on the floor, a pitiful amount really, shivering all the while as the plane had somehow gone even colder now it was night time. Obviously the lights weren't working as they had turned the power off, so it was difficult navigating their way through the dark. Martin had considered briefly setting a match alight, but he did not want to waste one on something as trivial as light. Besides, he didn't really want Arthur to see his face in the light, as he suspected that his lips might have gone blue as they sometimes did when he got too cold, something which he thought might scare Arthur too much in the dark. They lay on the hard floor and burrowed uselessly into their few blankets, knowing they were into a long and difficult night's sleep. They had both agreed that they should just sleep, as they knew that they were so attuned to the quietness of the interior of the aircraft that any buzz or signal from the radio would be easy to hear and would probably wake them up. The longer Martin wriggled on the hard floor, the more he cursed life. Why had their customer wanted their boxes flown through bloody Russia? Why couldn't it have been Hawaii or somewhere hot? Yes, they might still have starved but at least they would be blessedly, oh so blessedly warm. Although Matin might fare the best on little food, he also had little body fat so he was not faring well in the cold, shivering like a tree in the wind. Oh no, his teeth were chattering, something he found very hard to stop when it got started. \he knew that his shivering was sending little vibrations which could be felt by Arthur, and he was about to apologise when he felt a warmish arm wend its way round his middle.

"Wha-?"

"You're shivering."

Arthur's voice was matter of fact, ignoring completely that he was now pressed very close to Martin, who was trying to splutter, but without much gusto.

"But, er, but-"

"Yeah, I'm pretty cold too, but I think we'll warm up better together."

"But D-"

Martin was about to mention Douglas, but he realised that Douglas wasn't there and would never know unless he told him; Martin would never be so stupid.Arthur seemed to understand what he was about to say.

"That doesn't matter. Also, I'm apologising."

Martin felt Arthur curl another arm around him; now he was completely ensconced in Arthur and he was trying very hard not to think about what Carolyn would say if she saw him in the arms of her son.

"Apologising?"

"For being horrible. Ah, Skip, you _are_ warm."

Martin gave a little yelp as Arthur placed a hand on his back, under his shirt as his hand was cold against his somehow warm skin. Arthur laughed breathily in his ear.

"Sorry! You can do the same to me if you like."

Tentatively, Martin brought his arm from underneath it and placed it on Arthur's back. Arthur gave a little shiver, which in turn rippled through Martin.

"Ahh, I see what you mean. Gosh, my hands must be _freezing._ Good job we have each other to warm each other up, eh?"

"Arthur are you-" 

Martin wanted to say "flirting with me?" but he just couldn't bring himself to say it. Arthur spoke sweetly and innocently.

"Am I what?"

Damn it, Arthur was a difficult person to read. Maybe he thought lying on the floor with your arms around one of your friends was innocent, Martin didn't even know anymore. He couldn't be bothered, it was starting to get warmer, anyway.

"…doesn't matter. Er, night."

"Night, Skipper!"

 

They settled on silence, and Martin was beginning to feel very strange. If someone had told him last week that he would be in a life or death situation and practically hugging Arthur to sleep then he would've laughed long and hard at them. But it was so very comfortable, and Arthur was surprisingly soft and maybe if he just shut his eyes…

 

Arthur lay there holding the softly snoring Martin, and for the first time since they crashed he could feel his old happiness returning. Even though their future seemed bleak, he thought he could bear it all now he'd had a chance of holding the one he truly cared for. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Douglas and Carolyn, wherever they may be.
> 
> I've got quite a busy week, but as always I will try my best to update :)


	7. Whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we join Carolyn and Douglas; what on earth have they been doing? 
> 
> As always, thank you immensely for reading :)

 

Douglas was an idiot. Carolyn knew this when she first employed him, had been thinking it for years now. Oh he was brainy, no doubt, but he was a full blooded, constant, blithering _idiot._

"We are lost."

"No we're not!"

"Do you know where we are?"

"Well, not exactly-"

"Right then. So we are lost."

Douglas pinched the bridge of his nose, trying very, very hard not to explode back at Carolyn, because Douglas Richardson did not lose his temper. Well, that was a lie but he knew from well worn experience that an argument with Carolyn would just go round in endless circles and he didn't think he could bear that on top of their current predicament. He spoke through gritted teeth.

"We _are not lost._ It's bloody difficult knowing exactly where we are on the map, considering it's made of lines and not little arrows pointing our way, but I am fairly sure," He jabbed a finger at the map in her hand,

"That we are _here._ Or at least close to there. And anyway, I believe _I_ am the one who has the qualified navigation skills?"

Carolyn sniffed haughtily, but blessedly stayed silent. They had been walking for hours now in the blistering cold, but he and Carolyn were nothing if not stoic, and they marched on relentlessly, determined to make at least some progress. He didn't know about Carolyn, but Douglas ached all over; at first he gathered that it must have been after effects of their crash landing, but soon this prolonged walk was causing his legs to protest. He knew that Carolyn hated any reminder that she was old, hell, you sometimes forgot when she glowered at you with her vigorous temper, but he knew that this expedition must be hard on her. Yes, he was sure that it did qualify as an expedition, even if they were both decked out as the most idiotic explorers in the history of man. But, secretly, he knew the main reason for her annoyance, why she did not want them to get lost. Although Carolyn affected an indifferent and aloof air, he knew that she was worrying about Arthur, especially in that state they had left him in. He suspected that a tough old girl like her would stare death in the face, defiant as she had been on the plane, but he knew that she absolutely did not want that fate for Arthur. He forgot sometimes that Carolyn and Arthur must be close considering they had spent so many years in each others company even though she could occasionally be quite cruel to him, and he knew how distraught he would feel if his daughter was stuck with them on this hateful trip and he'd just had to leave her behind. They plodded on, their footsteps muffled in the snow, and Carolyn did not bring his directions into question again. It was quite a while before her crisp voice cut into the air.

"You don't…you don't think they will come after us, do you?"

Douglas considered what she said with care. Truth be told, he had half expected to find that the other two had followed them out into the cold, as Martin liked to be involved in important decisions and Arthur hated for them all to separate, as Douglas remembered well from their fateful trip to Uskerty. Oh, Arthur did have a fine time with Douglas at the bar, but he couldn't fail to notice how Arthur kept on looking to the door for the arrival of Martin and Carolyn, and how he had a small look of relief on his face when they returned, goose-ridden perhaps, but returned all the same. Martin must be doing a very good job of keeping Arthur from coming after them.

"I think," Douglas began carefully, "I think that they might actually listen for once. You know how much Martin is a stickler for the rules, even if it's rules that we have made up for them."

"I didn't want us to split up."

"I never said-"

"I know everyone thinks I'm the big bad wolf, but I just want it to be known that if anything happens I will regret it as much as anyone. I take no joy in being the one who made that decision."

 

Douglas cast a sideways glance at her, but she was staring determinedly onwards. She seemed to be embarrassed to admit what she clearly thought was a flaw in her icy persona, a hint of the care that she had under her layers of hardened skin, skin which had probably become harder and harder at every disappointment she encountered in her life. With a jolt, Douglas realised that if anything happened to Arthur on the plane, Carolyn would have no one. Oh, you could very well say that she had Herc, but Douglas was fairly certain that grief would cause Carolyn to become even more closed up, and he doubted that Herc 'I need your affection' Shipwright would be able to withstand that. 

"No one is going to blame you, Carolyn. If I didn't think we were doing the right thing I would have refused to come with you."

"Nonsense, I would have dragged you out of that plane!"

"I think not- I would have sealed myself into the toilet with a fortified door using a medley of items, including the alcohol we discovered, toothpicks and some cushions."

"The sad thing is, I don't even doubt it for a second"

 

***

 

 

It was utterly ridiculous; they had been walking for hours and had seen _nothing._ How could an airfield be so far away from any form of civilisation? They tried to ignore the fact that anyone stupid enough to live in this landscape probably wouldn't be travelling on foot but would be in some sort of fortified vehicle and that the airfield was long abandoned. Douglas was certain that they should be nearing somewhere with buildings; Russia might be empty in places, but it couldn't be _this_ empty. He could tell that Carolyn was just as disconcerted as he, and soon his confusion grew as he felt the ground begin to dip slightly. It was beginning to become difficult to see through the whorls of snow, and the sky was becoming darker and darker as they ploughed on. He didn't want to give up, how could he go back and say that he, Douglas 'Can Do' Richardson had failed? But he remembered the pledge they had made to the others, and gritted his teeth around the foul confession. 

"Loathe though I am to admit it, I think this has been a rather futile search. I might be wrong, but perhaps we set off in the wrong direction. Should we reconvene back at G-ERTI?"

Carolyn heaved a heavy sigh; it seemed pointless to give up after they had ploughed on for so long, but they had already left it far too long and if they had the energy to walk back to the aeroplane they would still only arrive by nightfall and Martin and Arthur would be worried sick, concerned that they hadn't fulfilled their promise of returning by evening if they hadn't found anything or anyone. 

"You're right. What a pointless way to spend the day. I think we should-"

But her words suddenly cut off into a most un-Carolyn like whelp, and Douglas whipped his head around so fast he was in danger of cricking his neck. The snow had been obscuring the landscape so much that they stupidly hadn't realised that they were slowly walking along a precipice, a precipice which an unsuspecting Carolyn had just fallen into. It was almost magical; at first she was there, then she seemed to simply vanish into the white, her scream taken away by the wind.

"CAROLYN!"

He sprung immediately into action and moved to the edge of the precipice which he could now see clearly, how had it escaped their notice? He saw that the distance to the ground wasn't terribly long, but he knew that if Carolyn had fallen badly, well, he had to get to her quickly, he had to get to her _now_. He saw that if he slid his body over the side, then he could safely get down to where he assumed that she had fallen, if not slightly uncomfortably. Her tumble hadn't lasted long, and he was glad of her dark clothing because he could easily see her dark shape sprawled across the snow, and as he had been swift he wondered why she wasn't sitting up and grumbling already. A tumble like that was child's play, surely she would be ok. Fiercely ignoring the fact that Carolyn wasn't as sprightly as he believed, he strode over to her.

"Carolyn?"

No answer. The medical student in him did not like this one bit, and he kneeled on the icy ground, ignoring the coldness seeping into his trousers. He could tell that she was breathing but they were ragged breaths and as he moved over her he saw a cut on her head which was dripping slightly on the snow, staining it a little.

"Oh no, no no." She must have knocked herself out, because she did not respond. Although all of these previous signs were not promising, Douglas didn't think that she had broken anything as none of her limbs seemed to be at an odd angle and her head seemed to be the only visible injury. It was obviously catastrophic that she was knocked out, but it could have been infinitely worse. Delicately, fully aware of what Carolyn would say if she caught him doing so, he rested a hand on her shoulder and shook her very lightly.

"Carolyn? You need to wake up."

He tried this for a few more minutes, but she did not stir and he could feel his mind beginning to descend into panic. He couldn't leave her here on the freezing ground and look for help because she could get hypothermia; there was only one option, one he reached with much reluctance, that he could think of.

 

He was going to have to carry her.

 

Douglas was not a fool, he knew he did not have the same sort of strength he'd had in his youth, but he was not going to give up yet. Carolyn was not particularly large, but she was very sturdy and he knew as he bent down to pick her up that he was going to be in for a very rough time. It was all so futile; he knew he had to carry her, but he had nowhere to carry her to! He decided, teeth gritted and huffing and puffing across the snow, that he was going to plough on until he just couldn't any longer, and he knew he had an excellent stamina. It was decidedly strange carrying Carolyn, and he hoped to high heavens that she wasn't going to wake up because he knew how badly she would take to being carried, never mind how much it was necessary. 

 

A couple of minutes later, and his legs felt like they were on fire. Just another step, come on Douglas, just another, you can do this, you can-

"What on earth are you doing?!"

He almost dropped her in his surprise.

"Nice of you to join us, Carolyn."

He could her her voice full of embarrassment as she peered at him from in his arms.

"Put me down this instant! I am _not_ a child!"

"I am painfully aware of that fact, Carolyn. Did you want me to leave you there?"

He could feel her wriggling around, trying to free herself, but he still kept a firm grip on her and did not stop walking. 

"Yes! I would have been fine!"

"Carolyn,"

Douglas had finally snapped- now was not the time for pride or embarrassment, and he knew that Carolyn hadn't seen herself frighteningly sprawled on the ground like a broken puppet but he would be damned if she was going to tell him off.

"Don't be _stupid_.  Fine, maybe I should have left you, then I could've gotten help and never found you again. I'm sure you would have been absolutely _fine_ unconscious and bleeding on the snow. What would I have told Arthur?"

It was a bit of a low blow to use Arthur to make her feel guilty, but Douglas thought it was high time she saw sense. He didn't want to carry her at all, but he knew he had to and he wasn't going to regret his decision. Carolyn had glared at him when he mentioned Arthur, and he was amazed how she was still able to look that ferocious when looking up at him in his arms.

"Herc won't be pleased."

"Herc," Douglas spat.

"Will hopefully be immensely grateful that I have saved his _girlfriend_ -"

"I am not his girlfriend!"

"-And I wasn't actually planning on telling him that I heroically carried you across the tundra, but now I see I have excellent blackmailing material. I'm sorry for saving you from an unpleasant and icy death."

He could feel her gearing up for another heated protest, but instead of an angry tirade she just let out a very tired sigh.

"Oh blast it. Thank you for saving me, Douglas. Your bravery has been noted and filed away under 'occasions I need to remember when Douglas is being particularly weaselly and I want to fire him'" 

"Oh, I never expected to receive such lofty praise from Her Majesty. I might blush if you carry on." 

He had resumed his walking since Carolyn had ceased protesting even though he was really finding it quite difficult to carry on. But, now he knew she was awake he felt like he didn't want to seem weak; Carolyn was having something of a similar dilemma because she loathed having to depend on someone and this was starting to prove too much, despite how much she needed Douglas's help.

"Ok. You can put me down now."

He snorted.

"Yeah right. You _fell_ Carolyn."

"But I haven't injured my legs. They feel fine!"

Damn it, Carolyn was one stubborn woman.

"No, I insist-"

"DOUGLAS…PUT. ME. DOWN."

"I-"

"NOW!" 

Thinking for a moment how satisfying it would be to dump her on the ground, Douglas carefully slid her out of his arms, but it was with a tinge of relief; his body had already been battered by their landing and now his back was aching horribly. She seemed to totter slightly now that she wasn't being supported and Douglas peered at her with eyebrows raised and a rather smug expression. 

"Still feeling fine?"

"Shut up. I'm going to-" 

Although she hadn't hurt her legs badly when she had fallen, they ached an incredible amount and her lurch forward was so ungainly that Douglas darted forwards and grabbed her arm, resulting in an absolutely thunderous look from Carolyn.

'I don't need help!" 

"Carolyn, I'm not going to think of you as any less of a she-devil if you take my arm. For what it's worth I think you are being quite heroic, now can we please give up on this nonsense?"

She let him take her arm and help her walk over the icy ground. As if to make up for her apparent helplessness, she seemed to be the one guiding them, though to where neither of them knew. They didn't even bother to discuss it; it was now too late to make their way back to G-ERTI or they would certainly get lost. The darkening sky was heralding the coming night and they were wandering aimlessly, exactly what they had vowed not to do. They both ached horrendously and despite his ruthless stamina and belief in himself, Douglas just wanted to lie down, even in this dim and foreboding place. Yes, even their surroundings seemed to be becoming darker, especially at a certain spot in the distance-

"Douglas," Carolyn's voice was urgent.

"Is that, is that a building?" 

Hardly daring to hope, Douglas peered carefully into the amounting gloom. The dark shape slowly honed into view, soon merging into the semblance of a small building, more of a hut really. But a building hopefully meant warmth or people or just a respite from this terrible weather so they hurried as fast as they could, forcing their poor abused limbs in a herculean effort. They kicked the snow as they practically ran, leaving haphazard tracks, but they could see no welcoming smoke from the chimney or any lights at all. Undeterred, when they reached a sturdy looking wooden door, they knocked frantically, Douglas's gloved hand resulting in a slightly muffled sound. They waited, the only sound that of the wind whistling dismally behind them, barely louder than the sound of their own thoughts beating desperately against their skulls. Where was everyone? Had they landed in an apocalypse? Douglas tore off his gloves and beat ferociously on the door, rattling it on its hinges. Carolyn spoke, but for once her voice was quiet and absent of its usual malice.

"There's no one here. How are we going to get in?"

"I'm going to knock that door down if it's the last thing I do. Come on, I'm going to need your help."

She didn't even bother to protest; she knew that determined look in Douglas's eye, the look that usually preceded him getting them out of a sticky situation. He looked at her as they moved closer to the door and she nodded. Together, they built up their strength and delivered two mighty kicks to the door, which protested greatly but did not swing open as they half expected. But they did not give up. They were not going to be thwarted by a door.

"Again."

Together they kicked; the door swung open to accept them. Douglas let out a hearty cheer and they rushed into the inside of the building. It was dark so Douglas soon located a light switch, not filled with any hope, but soon the room was filled with the comforting electrical light. He was very surprised; he hadn't seen any electricity lines and so was flummoxed as to how electricity was working this far out. But this was a promising sign! Surely if they had electricity they must be near somewhere with people and help! It wasn't exactly warm inside, but it was infinitely warmer than outdoors, and they both immediately moved to a fireplace in the corner which had a few logs in a bracket next to it. Finally something had gone right, and Douglas wasted no time in chucking a log on the fire and using one of his precious matches to light it. They didn't speak for a long while as the heat washed over them, melting the ice which encrusted their clothes and transforming it into glistening droplets; they were too content with the heat to care. They had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm. Carolyn prised her gloves off and stretched her hands towards the flames, looking over her shoulder at the cabin and giving it a proper look. 

"Who would build such a place out here?"

Douglas considered this, giving the cabin his full attention. It was not large, no more than a room really, and it certainly wasn't somewhere that people lived. There seemed to be a few filing cabinets and a desk, suggesting it was somehow work related.

"I'm not sure, it doesn't seem like somewhere you would stay for long does it? Maybe it's some kind of look out post or research building; I'd have a look at the papers but it will just be written in Russian and I most certainly cannot read it, although it pains me to admit it."

"So, do you think it is manned regularly?"

He could see where her thoughts lay.

"Perhaps. The logs seem to be fairly fresh, but then that might mean that someone was here but recently left and we missed them. I think we should-"

He stopped, confused, as they heard a quiet buzz. They almost missed it, but it was loud in the quiet interior of the cabin.

"What was that?"

"Don't look at me, it came from that rucksack!"

"How could it possibly have-" Douglas began and then it clicked.

"Your phone! Did it have charge?" 

He ripped off the ridiculous rucksack and tore it open, digging around frantically for Carolyn's phone. He brought it out triumphantly and Carolyn promptly snatched it from his hands. He almost protested but then contented himself with sidling up next to her and staring at the phone. 

"I have messages, how can I be receiving them? We don't have signal!" But Douglas prodded at the signal sign on her phone, somehow appearing miraculously in the corner of the screen.

"But we do! We _must_ be near a town or somewhere! Quick, ring…" 

But who could they ring? They didn't know what number one rang in Russia when you got lost. Carolyn was similarly conflicted, but as they ruminated on this conundrum for a few moments the signal flickered off.

"No, no, no!"

"it doesn't matter- it will be back. At least we know there _is_ a signal! Who are the messages from?"

It seemed that as they had briefly had a signal, Carolyn's phone had been able to receive the messages it had been sent, but obviously they weren't going to be able to send a reply. Knowing this, Carolyn scanned them with utmost reluctance.

"Herc, mostly."

They both read, Douglas for once deigning not to comment.

 

_Hey Carolyn, you didn't ring me when you said you were going to arrive in Russia, are you alright? You haven't had a duel with Douglas and accidentally flown G-ERTI into the sea have you? I can't captain a submarine though it's an excellent idea! H. x_

 

 

_Ignore my previous text- it was idiotic. Please ring when you get this. H. x_

 

_Have I annoyed you? H. x_

 

_Carolyn, it's been hours. Where are you? H. x_

 

_I've rung the airport at Tobolsk and they haven't recorded your arrival. I know by now you probably can't read this or you would have replied and I'm so worried. If somehow you can read this, please ring._

 

_I will find you. H. x_

 

_I love you.  H. x_

 

 

Carolyn was not particularly comfortable with Douglas reading these texts; there was far too much for him to tease her about. But as his eyes registered the increasing desperation in Herc's words, he just couldn't bring himself to say anything sarcastic.

"At least he is on our tracks fast. We've only technically been missing since last night." 

Carolyn couldn't speak. She had wondered if Herc had noticed he absence of texts and had half hoped that he would have carried on in blissful ignorance for a little longer. Oh, of course she wanted to be found as quickly as possible but, despite her attempted aloofness towards him, she did not want Herc to suffer. And he would, not knowing whether they had crashed or were just stranded somewhere, although she supposed that if anyone would do their utmost to track them down, it would be Herc. Her eyes flickered to the last text. Love. She still hadn't told him that she loved him. She thought he knew that she did, but suddenly as she was so far away from him and unable to talk, she felt like she desperately wanted to tell him. Douglas must have seen something of this on her face, as he took the phone gently from her hands. 

"There's nothing we can do until the signal comes back on. Vome on, lets sit down and get some food out of this infernal bag. We might as well stay here for the night."

It was more than they could have hoped for, finding this cabin, yet they both regretted the fact that they hadn't returned to G-ERTI as the other two would surely be out of their minds with worry. But they were fairly confident that they wouldn't worry too much unless they didn't return until tomorrow, which they would have to decide if they would in the morning. It was tricky- go back to G-ERTI or stay here and hope help would come? They would have to see what fresh ideas the morning brought; they were exhausted. They both sat in chairs they found in the cabin and placed them next to the fire, both munching the cheese they had brought because they decided it might melt in this sudden heat. They stared into the depths of the crackling flames, solemnly munching the cheese and hoping that Arthur and Martin were holding up. 

 

 

 

_***_

 

 

 

They both slept deeply through the night as they had been absolutely exhausted from their awful trudge through the forbidding landscape. The lull of the heat and somewhere to rest their tired bones had proved too much, as even though they had muttered that one of them should stay awake just in case anyone made an appearance, the cabin was soon filled with gentle snores. This was their second night after their untimely crash, yet they were glad that Herc at least had noted their disappearance.

 

They might have remained asleep for a very long time had a loud noise not cut through even their deep sleep. Much as it had with Martin and Arthur, there was a strange crackle and a buzz which soon caused them both to crack open weary eyes and gaze round blearily at the source of the noise.

"Douglas, is that a radio?"

Douglas sprung from his chair, furiously ignoring his still protesting legs, and dashed towards the messy desk in the corner where the source of the noise seemed to be coming from.

"It must be! how could we not have noticed it yesterday?"

Hidden underneath various papers and other office debris lay a communications radio, confirming Douglas's guess that this must be some kind of look out post in these seemingly deserted parts. He wonders briefly why Carolyn had let him dash to the radio rather than herself, but then he realised that the crackle he heard was speaking Russian.

"Zdravstvujtye? Zdravstvujtye?

Douglas frowned and tried to summon all of his previous knowledge of Russian in his mind. It was somewhat difficult to make out the Russian underneath the crackling of the radio, but he decided to try.

"Zdravstvujtye, Vy mozhite mne pamoch? Ya zabludils’a." _Hello, can you help me? I'm lost._

There was a slight pause as the people on the radio seemed to take his rusty Russian in. When the voice answered, it was distinctly more hesitant.

"Kak vy skazali?" _What did you say?_

Douglas was struggling, how could he convey what he needed- someone to help them and to release a search party to find G-ERTI? He tried to remember essential phrases which had been drummed into him.

"Izvinitye, ya plokho ponimayu po-russki. Vy govoritye po-anglijski?"  _Sorry, I don’t understand Russian very well. Do you speak English?_

Caroyn's eyes darted form the radio to Douglas constantly, and she absolutely hated not being able to understand the conversation. Douglas seemed a little hesitant, as he didn't want to admit they were English but they probably knew already from his clunky and obvious accent. There was a distinct silence from the speakers on the radio and they half feared they were going to disconnect, but then a heavy voice answered.

"Hello? You say you are English, please?"

"Yes, yes we are. Look we're sorry to-"

"What are you doing at our base? How did you enter it?"

"I'm a pilot, we crashed in Oymyakon airfield."

They heard a murmur as this man quickly translated for others who were doubtless listening in, obviously wondering like Carolyn what the hell was going on. 

"You say you are pilot? Why did you land there? Is abandoned for very long time."

"It was a crash landing. We had a problem with fuel and we had to land." 

"How many of you are there?"

"There are two of us in here, but we had to leave our other two crew on the plane. They are waiting for us to return."

The man resumed his frantic translating for his comrades, and for a while they could only listen as they carried on discussing this problem. The radio, already temperamental, seemed to be becoming less and less clear, and Douglas felt a slight desperation.

"Are you going to help us or not?"

"Is not that easy- Oymyakon is not an easy place to get to, we will need to get equipment and your hut is difficult enough to find."

Carolyn spoke, finally.

"So you will help us?"

There was a shocked silence after this.

"You have a lady with you?"

"Yes, she is my boss-"

"Yes, a very cold, and very old lady!"

Douglas gave her a look, but understood what she was doing. Although Carolyn hated it when people treated her as a feeble old lady, she knew how this information may cause the people on the radio to be more inclined to help. Indeed, although they heard a heavy sigh, the man spoke.

"Of course we will help. It will not be easy but we will try to-"

 

The radio cut off completely, and Carolyn gasped.

"No!"

Douglas tried his best to coax the radio into working again, but it stayed silent, not a buzz or crackle to be heard. It was so frustrating, but they had finally found contact.

"Carolyn, it's ok- we've been found! Help will be on it's way I bet. Aren't we lucky I knew a bit of Russian, although when it comes to me it's not really luck, more natural talent."

"Yes, thank you, first officer humble. I suppose there isn't really much else to do but wait."

"I'm going to try and see if this radio can contact G-ERTI- it's a long shot, but I think it will be worth a try. We're going to have to stay here now and although we know help is coming Martin and Arthur will think we're lost."

Carolyn looked startled at this. Of course- they were forced to stay here now; would the other two panic?

"Oh Douglas, what if they come after us?"

"They won't." Douglas tried to force confidence into his voice, but they both noticed the waver.

"They won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry if anyone reading this is Russian or knows Russian- I have probably butchered your lovely language. I am limited to what I can try and find on the internet, and I hope it wasn't clunky to include the English translations in the story, but it wouldn't have made sense without it.
> 
> At this point, both of the timelines match up now, so this ends on the same night we left Arthur and Martin. Hope you enjoyed!


	8. A cry for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we return to Arthur and Martin...
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!

By the next morning, they had burnt the monopoly board.

 

Martin knew it was foolish to light a fire on the aeroplane, even if they weren't currently flying in the air, but he was so cold he was past caring. They had decided that they just couldn't light a fire in the main body of the plane or the flight deck, and it would defeat the point to huddle around a fire outside as the little heat the fire offered would be thwarted by the terrible cold, and thus they had both decided that lighting a fire in the hold, while not advised, was probably the easiest place to contain it. Arthur just seemed grateful for the little hint of warmth that this fire allowed, although their supplies of things to burn was pitiful to begin with so Martin knew they would only be able to have the fire for a limited time only. He felt a tinge of sadness as he watched the board burn, vague happy memories briefly flooding his mind, and he jumped as Arthur laid the little silver dog which must have fallen from the box on his leg, affecting a gruff sort of voice which he evidently suspected the dog would have were it alive and sentient. 

"Don't frown, Skipper. We've got a bit of warmth! Hooray! I mean, woof!" 

Despite the hopelessness settling in deeper than the pervading cold, Martin smiled, even though his lips felt terribly cracked. He and Arthur had been finding it much easier to be close to each other, and Martin wasn't particularly surprised about this since he had woken up desperately burrowed into Arthur to try and generate some warmth. Although they were definitely warmer huddled together, the temperature inside the plane was almost unbearable in its intense coldness, and he had woken up shivering with Arthur, feeling infinitely tired and just so _done_ with it all. When he had awoken, clutching Arthur like a lifeline, he saw Arthur staring at him with a slightly perturbed expression, which he quickly tried to hide when he registered that Martin was awake. As he had suspected, when Martin later on darted into the toilet to check his reflection in the mirror, his lips had indeed gone blue and his already pale face was deathly white, the freckles standing out clearly. Before he had done that, he and Arthur just stayed there on the floor, wordlessly holding each other and neither suggesting they move. They didn't have anything to do, and Martin suspected that if they got up they would be even colder, so he ignored his gnawing stomach and closed his eyes, unashamedly pressing his face against Arthur's shoulder. 

 

And now they were in the hold. 

 

Although they had been very reluctant to move from each other, both of their minds were desperately focused on one task: find some warmth. As soon as they had woken up and the blessed dull feeling that came with being drowsy evaporated, the cold seemed to intensify tenfold, and out of the blue Martin suggested that they should make a fire. Arthur was reluctant at first; his experience with fire on G-ERTI, albeit a tiny flame, had resulted in him accidentally causing a passenger to have a heart attack, but soon the lull of actual rather than imagined warmth beckoned a tantalising finger, and he agreed to follow Martin to the hold. When they entered, they both tried to ignore the broken heat exchanger which seemed to mock them in the corner. Martin still had the matches Douglas had given him secured safely in his pockets, talismans of both hope and desperation. He knew he should use them sparingly, but the first hint of warmth elicited from the burning board caused him to feel such a wave of ecstasy that he had never felt before. It was almost indecent, Arthur thought, the way Skip leaned into the warmth, his mouth parted and eyes closed tight, soft ginger lashes ghosting his deathly pale cheeks. When Martin spoke, his breath caused puffs of frozen air to appear. 

"Oh, oh, the warmth. I've forgotten what it feels like to be warm."

Arthur knew exactly how he felt. He had forgotten what it was like to have warm feet, to be covered by a blanket and have this simply be enough, to have coldness as a brief annoyance rather than a constant presence. Feeling that perhaps speaking gloomily would cause the heat to drop even lower, Arthur decided to focus, as he inevitably did, on the positives.

"But all the best things in life are warm! Surely you haven't forgotten!"

Martin's eyes were still closed; he leaned back from the fire and against Arthurs huddled legs. When he spoke, his voice was soft, distant.

"Tell me."

To anyone other than Arthur, this may have seemed an odd request. Tell him what? But Arthur understood. What Martin wanted right now was a good old Arthur Shappey perspective on things, something to convince him that all had not gone to pot. Arthur thought carefully so he wouldn't get muddled, as he often did when he was allowed a free reign to speak.

"Well, I've told you before Skip that there's nothing as lovely as getting into a bath when it's just,"

He leant down so that his hot breath could be felt on the bit of Martin's exposed neck that he had spotted.

"The right temperature."

Martin shivered, and Arthur knew this time it wasn't because of the cold. He plowed on regardless.

"I especially love when you lower yourself in and your whole body's just covered in a _warmth_ , the right temperature and all over you. Sometimes I hold my breath and I float and I pretend I'm just a little bubble, little bubble Arthur on the sea of warmth."

As Arthur's dreamlike tones filled the hold, Martin could _almost_ feel it, the elusive warmth. He tried, he tried so hard to envelop himself in the described haven, but reality beat itself forcefully upon him, as he knew it must. 

"There's other times too, though. Like when you are running through the rain and you've left your umbrella at home and you get so soaked, and Mum shouts at you for leaving puddles in the hall. But when you take your wet clothes off and huddle in your blanket with a hot chocolate, well, there's nothing better than that."

Martin seemed to be struck with a sudden memory.

"My Mum…she used to make me hot chocolate. I forgot."

Arthur's voice was ecstatic.

"Yes! Oh Skip, your Mum seems like the sort of mum that would make you a lovely mum hot chocolate, i don't know how they do it but it's never as tasty  when I make it myself!"

"She used to make it…because I couldn't reach to get the powder."

Martin had the sudden painful memory of him being a child and struggling to reach the cupboards where his prize lay waiting, hating his short legs and having to constantly look up at everyone. Little Martin, that's what they had called him, which is why he _hated_ it when Carolyn had called him that. Little Martin, always picked last in teams, Little Martin, God he obsesses over planes too much. But, suddenly, shining brightly over these depressing memories shone one of his his mother, her face younger and filled with less worry, breaking into a happy little smile as she gazed upon her struggling son. She had picked up the little figure of Martin easily and held him up to the cupboard; he stopped his crying and giggled as he soared through the air. Somehow, in her gentle voice the words were no longer an insult, and as they tumbled delicately from her mouth they seemed like the most precious and wondrous words imaginable. 

"My Little Martin, just the right size for Mum's arms."

 

He had forgotten, and the memory burned, filled with a searing love and happiness, so unlike most of the memories from his childhood. For the first time in a very long time, he wanted his mother like he had when he was a little struggling boy. He wanted to speak to her, to tell her about how much he had appreciated her, as he knew he hadn't told her enough. He had brought his head upon his knees and sobbed, not even realising that he was doing so. Arthur, concerned, lay a hand on his shaking shoulder.

"Oh Skip, have I made you sad? I was supposed to make you happy!"

"No, no, I was just…thinking about my Mum. I love her and I never said! I never-"

"Skip." Arthur's voice was firm. 

"She knows."

"But how do you know that? How could you-"

"When you found out she was ill, you basically ran to the hospital, Skip. You didn't listen to Mum, Douglas or even to me. I saw you when you were on the ward, your Mum saw you too. She knows."

 

Martin was grateful for these kind words, so grateful, and for a while he just sat there huddled and lightly sobbing. Arthur rubbed a soothing circle on his back, and when he spoke his voice was hesitant.

"Do you want me to tell you the last thing?"

Martin thought that Arthur had finished his little speech; however, he was interested despite his current emotions to hear what Arthur had to say next so, huddled as he was, he nodded, knowing that Arthur would feel his movement and interpret it as a yes. Arthur took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself.

"But the one thing, the one thing that truly makes you feel warm from head to toe isn't a real warmth, like getting hot bread from a toaster or snuggling next to Snoopadoop. You only feel it when you look round at your life, know that things could have been different but know where you are now is one hundred times better than what you missed out on. When you look around, even if the plane is falling apart, even if customers can be a little shouty, even if…if people don't think they are loved when they so are and you can look at yourself and say: I am happy. That is me. I feel that warmth."

 

The words hung in the air, an almost tangible nuance which hovered in the frigid air of the hold. Arthur seemed to have a peculiar way of stating his thoughts in a way which was almost matter of fact, but which held a pure, unwavering honesty. Martin did not doubt for a second that this was what Arthur truly thought, and the words filled his mind with a sweetness that he was eternally grateful for, and a tad awestruck. Sometimes, although it seemed unlikely, Arthur was the wisest of them all. 

 

Martin knew that whatever he could say would never match up to Arthur's words, but he tried to convey some of what he felt in a somewhat tired smile, one that Arthur returned with one of his own, though his eyes looked rather sad. Martin wanted to do something, anything rather than wallow on the floor next to the pathetic and dwindling fire, but he couldn't summon the energy. Arthur saw his eyelids half close, and although he felt concerned he just couldn't bring himself to tell Martin to stay awake when he was clearly exhausted. 

"Skip, you just go right to sleep for a little bit- I'll try and find something to put on the fire in case it goes out. In fact, I think I might go back up into G-ERTI so I can get us some food. I know we don't have much left, but it looks like you really, really need it." 

Martin nodded sleepily and curled himself up as Arthur stood. Without a second thought, Arthur retrieved the blanket he had been huddling under and wrapped it around Martin's own, waving away his protests that Arthur would be cold.

"I'll have a coat Skip, and I won't be long! But don't you wake- I'll be back in a second anyway."

Arthur was just about to leave through the door when Martin spoke.

"Arthur? About the last thing you said, I just wanted you to know…Me too."

 

 

*******

 

 

When Martin awoke some time later, he felt as if tiny men had been wielding sledgehammers inside his head. He didn't want to tell Arthur, to worry him, but he was beginning to feel very, very ill. At first he had been finding this hide out inside G-ERTI to be annoying and uncomfortable, but he could bear it, but the combination of hardly any food and almost subterranean coldness was hacking at his already unhealthy body. He just wanted to sleep, to sleep until someone else just sorted it all out for him, which was a bad sign in itself because Martin Crieff hated feeling indebted towards others. He could tell that he had been asleep for a little while, yet Arthur was oddly absent from the hold. Surely he should have been back by now? But maybe he had been waylaid by something inside the aeroplane. With a pang, Martin remembered that he had neglected to tell Arthur how to operate the radio, which was foolish because they couldn't expect Martin to be constantly on hand; he resolved to teach Arthur as soon as possible. But he was also fairly confident that if Arthur had heard the radio he would have dashed back to retrieve Martin, asleep or not. His absence was worrying and Martin wasn't sure whether to go after him or whether he was worrying too much about nothing. He lay there, noticing that the fire had long since gone out, quietly contemplating what he should do next, when he heard it. It was an odd sound, and he strained to hear it through the metal doors, but there was a certain sound, a clearly human sound, and he tried to work out what it was. After a moment, he realised it was sobbing. 

"Arthur?" Martin's voice was feeble when he first tried to shout, so he cleared his throat and shouted as loud as his sore throat could manage,

" _Arthur_?"

There was a brief pause as this shout seemed to carry through towards the person, and Martin heard a muffled,

"Martin! Martin you're awake! Please, oh please, I need help-"

His words were laden with sobs, and the thought of Arthur in distress caused such a surge of adrenaline that Martin practically shot up from the floor and flung open the door, ignoring its cold touch. What he saw almost made his heart stop. At first it was difficult to see what was wrong, as Arthur was on the steps leading down from G-ERTI, but Martin saw that his hands were frozen onto the handrails leading down, effectively trapping Arthur on the stairs. Martin had absolutely no idea why Arthur had his bare hands on the rails, but he knew that now was not the time to ask because Arthur looked ready to faint; his eyes were screwed up in anguish and his hands were looking blue with cold.

"Oh god, what should I do?"

"The v-v-vodka. Please, be quick!" 

Of course! He should have remembered from their fateful trip to St Petersburg, in fact, thought Martin furiously as he began to mount the steps, Arthur should have remembered not to put his bare hands on any part of the plane from that occasion. It was difficult getting past Arthur as he was stretched between both sides of the rail, so Martin had to duck underneath him and hurry towards the plane door. He quickly retrieved the vodka from the cupboard and ran back towards Arthur, who was whimpering in continued pain. 

"Right, stay still, I'm going to pour it on."

"Ah, oh it hurts Skip!"

Martin tried to be gentle as he poured the vodka over Arthur's stuck hand and used his other to gently twist it off the rail, but Arthur moaned in pain. When they had finally become free, they were pale and lifeless on the top but a raw red where they had been prised from the metal. Arthur brought them up to his face, tears in his eyes, and Martin couldn't hold back any longer. He hissed,

"What the hell did you think you were doing? Did you not learn from last time? How could you do something so _idiotic-"_

 _"_ I slipped."

"-So utterly _stupid_ …wait, what?"

Arthur's voice was very small as he seemed to shrink away from the angry and puffed up Martin.

"I had to take my gloves off when I opened the door inside G-ERTI and I was just going to put them back on when I got outside but I slipped and grabbed onto the rail and my heart was beating so fast and when I tried to take my hands off I couldn't, I couldnt-"

 

Arthur couldn't bring his hands to his face, so he buried his face into his arms. Slowly, Martin's brain processed what Arthur had said and he felt absolutely awful. How could he blame Arthur from trying to stop himself from falling down the stairs? It was an accident, and he shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that. He spoke slightly awkwardly.

"Oh Arthur, I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"Thought I was an idiot, yeah. I _am_ an idiot, I shouldn't have slipped and I knew how much it hurt from last time. I shouted for so long, I just gave up."

The thought of Arthur shouting desperately for help whilst he slept uncaringly did nothing to assuage Martin's burning guilt. He was doing such a bad job of looking after Arthur that he was beginning to think that he should have just gotten lost like Carolyn and Douglas, he was that useless. He moved further up the steps and wrapped a hesitate arm around Arthur.

"No, I'm the idiot. I should've helped, should've been awake and I'm sorry. Come on, let's get inside and warm your hands up." 

He guided Arthur on to G-ERTI, figuring that they should go there rather than the hold for the moment. Arthur didn't protest as Martin placed him on a seat, as he was really not feeling very good, and he raised his hands which were starting to look more and more red, as if burnt. It was the most peculiar feeling; he was in pain, yet they didn't feel like his hands. He was about to rub them together for some warmth when Martin shouted, a sudden memory assaulting him.

"No! Don't rub them!"

"But won't it make them warmer?"

"No- I remember reading about frostbite in one of my manuals- it will make it worse."

Arthur's eyes became somehow wider at the mention of frostbite, and he stared at his hands as if expecting them to suddenly drop off.

'F-frostbite? Oh no, please tell me it's not frostbite."

Martin bit his lip. He didn't know whether it was or it wasn't, but the fact of the matter was that they couldn't pretend that everything was ok, so they had to prepare for the worst. It was so irritating, Martin could remember once reading up about this but couldn't remember exactly what one did when they had frost bite. He was half tempted to give Arthur some of the alcohol to try and warm him up, but he had the nagging feeling that this was not a wise idea. And he did not ignore nagging feelings. Although Arthur being drunk would at least help him forget his pains for a little bit, Martin didn't want to make it worse. But he didn't want to worry him. 

"How long do you think you were stood there?"

Arthur was beginning to feel absolutely terrible, but he was too scared about how close he had been to death, so he tried to ignore his amounting pain and put a casual spin on it, as he usually did when something overwhelmed him.

"Not _ages_ , I did spend quite a bit of time inside G-ERTI, so I wasn't stuck to the rail all that time. You don't think my hands going to drop off to you?"

There was a real fear in his voice which made Martin quash his one down, deciding that he was going to just try and focus on making Arthur feel better, as scaring him would do no good.

"No! I won't let that happen, and anyway, you say you weren't out for that long so you should be ok. Let me think about it for a second."

Martin frowned as he tried to remember what he had read, as he had a funny feeling that he had found something amusing about treating frostbite, and he could not for the life of him remember what it had been. Then, with a blush, he remembered the passage: "Place hands under armpits or place against a partner's stomach."

He had laughed because he knew he would never be close enough to anyone to feel nearly comfortable enough to rest their hands on their stomach if he had frostbite, but now it loomed horribly. He was debating whether to tell Arthur this, but the steward was already looking at his blush quizzically.

"What's wrong? Do I have to do something stupid like a warming up dance?"

If only it were that easy. Martin coughed, then relented.

"Um, I remember the manual said you could warm them up by putting them under your armpits…"

He stopped, but Arthur still shot him a confused look because this wasn't something that was worth a blush. Martin spoke, his flush deepening.

"Or you, er, put them on someone else's stomach."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, a slight smile gracing his face.

"...Right."

Catching his tone, Martin spoke quickly.

'I didn't make it up! It's because I'll be warm and err, err-" 

Laughing at Martin's flustered spluttering, Arthur edged closer towards him and spoke kindly.

"I'll just put them under my armpits, s'okay, I don't really mind."

Oh screw it.

"I don't mind if you want to use me. I mean, it's the least I can do."

Arthur met his eyes, but there was only seriousness there. He seemed to weigh up Martin's words as if deciding whether he was teasing, secretly wondering if he really ought to refuse this tantalising option, as surely he did not deserve it. He had indeed held onto Martin last night, but to be given permission to do something like this, it was almost too good to be true. Martin stood up awkwardly in the middle of the aisles and gestured to a space next to him.

"It's probably best if you stand up."

"Yes."

"I mean, there isn't much room in the seats to, you know, reach over." 

Arthur stood up, hardly caring that his legs protested at the sudden movement and ignoring his head which swam slightly. He padded over to Martin, who had undone his coat, still with delicious pink spots on his cheeks which made Arthur smile. He reached out his still red hands, noticing Martin's guilty look.

"I'll, er, just go ahead then if that's ok, Skip!"

Martin nodded, his back ramrod straight and feeling annoyed, as he usually did, that he had to look up at Arthur. Arthur was slow in his actions, he didn't want to seem too eager or to alarm Martin, and he tentatively placed his hand beneath Martin's shirt and onto his stomach. It was surprisingly warm, as the rest of the room was so cold, and Martin let out a gasp as the freezing hands came into contact with his skin, his stomach going taut. it was a very pleasant stomach, Arthur thought lazily, as he spread his still hurting hands on the quivering skin. Martin was far too thin, but he had a lovely stomach which hardly ever got any attention, hidden under baggy shirts and his uniform, and Martin was finding this situation to be rather surreal. In his few relationships, he didn't think he had ever had anyone pressing their hands on him so tenderly as if afraid to break him, which was ridiculous because Arthur was the one who was injured. He had expected it to be awkward and for them to jump away embarrassed, but Arthur just stood there, completely engulfed in the moment and very, very content. So relaxed was Arthur that Martin felt his stiff posture slowly become less so, and soon he was leaning unashamedly into the touch, letting himself enjoy it rather than be worried about what he should be feeling about it. Arthur looked down at Martins face, noting his slight open mouth and wondrous look in his eye.

"Come closer."

Martin didn't respond at first, obviously still unsure, so Arthur brought his hands from the laid flat position they had been in and brought his fingers together, effectively stroking them down Martin's stomach. Martin gave out a little whelp of shock and stumbled forwards, feeling very foolish. Arthur huffed a muffled laugh and placed his head on Martin's shoulder, stroking his stomach unashamedly and softly so that he didn't hurt his fingers. Martin spoke in a slightly strangled but not displeased voice.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the one making you feel better!"

"But you _are_ making me feel better."

Indeed, Arthur's spirits seem to have cheered up no end, even if he felt awful physically, and he knew that when he did eventually have to lead his hands away from Martin they would feel very empty without his reassuring heat. He was so soft underneath Arthur's injured hands, and while they didn't become warm they were certainly less cold. Arthur's head was a reassuring weight on Martin's shoulder, and his curly brown hair tickled Martin's neck; Arthur had to stoop to do this, but he had always found Martin's height endearing rather than an issue. Arthur didn't want to admit it, happy as he was being so close to Martin, but most of the reason why he had rested his head on Martin's shoulders was because he was beginning to feel very strange. His stroking fingers were becoming a bit shakey, and Martin noticed their slight change of pressure; in fact, he could feel Arthur beginning in to shake all over. He gently put his hands onto Arthur's head and lifted it from his shoulder. Arthur had a bit of a half focused look bout him, causing Martin to fill with panic.

"Arthur? Are you ok?"

"No, no I don't want to stop, don't make me stop."

"Arthur, you're not making any sense, you must be feeling the effects of being outside now-" 

"But I'm really _enjoying-_ "

"Arthur." 

Martin was loathe to remove Arthur's wonderful hands from his stomach, but he was sounding slightly delirious and he would be damned if he didn't at least try and make sure that he recovered properly. 

"I'm going to get the first aid kit, which I should have done first of all, and we're going to sort you out. Come on." 

He could tell that if Arthur had the proper use of his hands, he probably would have held on to Martin, but as they were so damaged he could only make them go slack and let Martin guide them away from him. The loss of this contact made him feel somehow quite sad, and he wondered if he would ever be able to do it again, of course only if he really needed to. He settled Arthur on a chair again, seeing his eyes flash with pain as he accidentally jostled his hands against the arm rest. 

"Give me a second, Arthur, I'm going to get the first aid kit from the cupboard."

"No! Don't, don't leave me…"

"I'm just going over here, I promise I'll be right back."

Arthur lay his head against the back of the seat still mumbling incoherently, and Martin desperately hoped it wasn't hypothermia settling in, as he had absolutely no idea how he should treat that, being neither medically talented or self confident. How had he not realised how bad Arthur had been when he had gotten in? He had been stupidly distracted, selfish. He bustled over to the cupboard, fervently hoping that the first aid kit would have instructions in it on how to treat hypothermia; it didn't. He filed frantically through it, hoping against hope that he would stumble across something that would help. He grasped some painkillers and bandages and shuffled back to Arthur. He had swiped a bottle of water from the galley and held this out with the painkillers, waiting for Arthur to take them. When he didn't open his eyes, Martin shook him gently.

"Arthur, will you take these for me? Please?"

Arthur cracked an eye open groggily.

"Huh?"

"Painkillers, they'll make your hands hurt less." _I hope_ , he thought bitterly.

Arthur didn't move. Martin, determined and desperate, opened Arthur's mouth and popped a pill in it, pouring in a little water to help it go down. He half expected Arthur to splutter or spit it out, but despite his bleary state he seemed to be trying to help Martin. Encouraged by this indication that Arthur had some idea of what was going on, Martin gently set about putting separate bandages on his fingers, which he vaguely remembered from the manual he had read. Martin knew that rubbing Arthur's hands was a bad idea, but he thought that perhaps he could stop some of his shivering by rubbing Arthur's arms, maybe generate a little heat. He tried, and Arthur made a content sort of grunt, then was silent. Martin hated the fact that they'd had to turn off the heating in the aeroplane because it was abysmally quiet, no cheery buzz, just their own breaths, frantic and laboured. Martin didn't know what to say, and he thought as he was so silent that Arthur had succumbed to sleep, though whether this was a good or bad thing he just didn't know. He perched next to Arthur, unsure what to do next. 

 

"I don't want to die."

The words were unexpected, quiet, awful. Arthur's voice was a mere whisper, but Martin caught it and felt his heart twist. So Arthur hadn't been asleep then; he had been worrying and despairing, something Martin didn't think him capable of. He decided for a burning second that he would do _anything,_ absolutely anything to make sure that Arthur survived this. His voice gathered strength, reverberating through the air with a ferocity that shocked him.

"You are not going to die." 

 

Arthur smiled wanly, and Martin knew he didn't believe him. He could hardly believe it himself, and he wanted to grasp Arthur's hand, to reassure him all would be well, but of course he couldn't.

"I won't let you." 

He felt a solitary tear fall down his face; he hadn't realised that he was crying and it startled him. But how could he not be upset? Arthur, the man who skipped and jumped through life, thought he was going to die, and he was scared.  Even though Arthur's eyes were closed, Martin knew it would do him no good if he spotted him crying, so he turned away from the prone figure on the chair and discreetly wiped his face. 

"Arthur? I'm just going to go back into the hold and try and heat some water, ok? I'll be back soon, I promise."

There was no response, and so he thought that maybe Arthur had now actually gone to sleep. He couldn't help it; he leant over him with his ears pressed close until he definitely heard his breathing; satisfied, he rushed out of the plane. He was very careful not to get his hands stuck on the rails, and busied himself with his task, his mind in a flurry of regrets, sadness and self hate.

 

***

 

When Martin finally returned to Arthur, he was holding a cup of tea that had taken a while to become hot enough to even count as tea. He hoped that the hot beverage would revive Arthur somewhat, and when he sidled up next to him, he almost didn't have the heart to wake him. Luckily, Arthur stirred and opened an eye, still looking unfocused.

"I made you tea. If you're not feeling up to it you don't have to drink it."

But Arthur made to stretch out a hand to receive it and remembered, letting his hand plop to his lap. Martin lifted the cup to Arthur's lips, mindful that he didn't burn them. Arthur took a small gulp, feeling the warm liquid heat up his insides. His head felt very muddled, and he was finding it difficult to understand what was going on.

'Where's Mum, Skip? You should make her a tea, she doesn't like being left out."

Martin stared at him.

"She's not here, Arthur."

He seemed to process this dimly.

"Oh, right then. Make sure you make one for Douglas, he'll get annoyed without it."

" _Arthur_ ," Martin couldn't help letting a desperate edge enter his voice.

"Douglas isn't here either."

"Oh. But I heard him."

"He's not here." 

"I'm sure I did…maybe it was…I don't really…" 

He was drifting off again, becoming incoherent, and Martin brought the cup away from him. He watched as Arthur slipped back into a slumber, then decided he had better make himself comfortable, as he was in for a long and painful night. His mind flickered briefly to what Arthur had said, and as his brain mused over it, he had a sudden thought that crashed through his head and almost made him drop the cup, realising his utter and catastrophic mistake.

 

Arthur had heard the radio. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why my stories contain so much Arthur whump, I really do love him so I think I'm just a bit mean sometimes. It does indeed turn out that if you drink alcohol it doesn't make you warmer- it actually mades your temperature lower, so good avoidance Martin!
> 
> Almost finished uni, so soon I will have more time to write and get this finished! Still a few chapters to go, I think.


	9. A light in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the little wait- I have been rather busy and have annoyingly fallen ill. However, it is possible to type and sneeze angrily, so all is not lost! Hopefully this is a nice long chapter for you to enjoy.
> 
> Thank you for reading, you make me so happy! :)
> 
> EDIT: I have noticed a stupid inconsistency in the timeline between Carolyn and Douglas and Martin and Arthur's storylines- they seemed to have been a day out of sync. This just means that I have altered the story slightly, making it so now they have been in the cabin a day longer than I had originally written, a bit of a cop out to be honest but it was the only thing I could do to fix it. I bet no-one even noticed, but as soon as I realised I was so annoyed with myself! I've just written a few sentences to amend this, it shouldn't impinge on your enjoyment :)

 

 

 

When Douglas and Carolyn awoke in the cabin, they both had absolutely no idea where they were for a few moments and cast their eyes about the unfamiliar place in confusion. Perhaps it was due to the fact that it was so toasty, and the slight feeling of relief rather than worry or panic that they both woke up to. Either way, they soon shook themselves and sat up, trying in vain to rub the sleep from their eyes. Carolyn spoke briskly.

"Right, ok then. What shall we do today Douglas?"

"There's only one thing we really can do- wait for rescue."

Carolyn turned to him slightly incredulously; it wasn't like Douglas to be content to wait like a sitting duck on the whims of someone else. Yesterday had been tortuous, a day long wait and nothing to show for it- no rescue and no contact with the others, and she was itching to do something, anything other than this monotonous waiting. After the success of making contact with the radio it was just so frustrating to have a day of silence, twitchily staring at the radio and icy outside. He seemed to interpret this look, his voice taking on his usual sardonic tones. 

"I'll admit, it isn't the most glamorous option, but I rather think it would be unwise to leave the place where we told our would be rescuers we could be found, instead of blundering into the cold and making Arthur's wish of real life snowmen come true."

Feeling slightly stupid, Carolyn stammered,

"Yes, of course, I just- I mean-"

"I understand. I want to go back to the others as much as you, but we really should stay put. Let's check out the radio."

It was unusually kind of Douglas not to pick on Carolyn's embarrassment, and she was grateful for it. She knew very well that remaining in the cabin was probably the most sensible option for her and Douglas to take, but she didn't want it to seem that she actually _wanted_ to be away from the others. She hated people thinking she was being soppy or emotional, but she knew how bad Arthur could get sometimes when he was worried. she had faith in Martin, more faith than she would ever, _ever,_ admit, but she would have traded anything in the world for the Russian people they had spoken to on the radio to rescue the others first. 

 

She bustled with Douglas towards the radio, which hadn't made a peep through the night or previous day and watched as he fiddled with the many dials, his face frowned in concentration. Carolyn had some of an understanding of the radio, but soon realised her little knowledge would not help at all, in fact Douglas seemed so absorbed in his job that she elected to go and have a look round the cabin to see if she could find anything of use. She hadn't bothered yesterday as they had their supplies and she had spent a vast majority of the day recovering from the aches the fall had inflicted on her, though she didn't admit this to Douglas. It was certainly an odd little cabin as it seemed to be mostly dedicated towards paperwork, though why anyone would want to do paperwork out here was anyone's guess, but she suspected that as this was a place that was clearly inhabited at least occasionally, there must be some supplies to keep the occupant relatively comfortable. As she searched, she couldn't help but wander occasionally to her phone which rested on the side, trying subtly to check if her signal had returned. Douglas had indeed noticed these little detours when he chanced a look up from the radio, and despite his animosity with Herc and love of getting to tease Carolyn, he didn't want to spoil this tender Carolyn which seemed to be surfacing. Soon enough, Carolyn located a cupboard which hung over a rusty looking sink concealed in a corner and found an ancient looking kettle and some Russian tea bags, looking slightly unusual but tea was tea. She could have cheered, but decided that she needed to regain at least some of her alpha wolf tendencies so drifted back towards Douglas, who was still absorbed in the radio. 

"I have successfully hunted down some tea bags for us. Any luck?"

"It's strange- I feel like we should be able to make some sort of contact with G-ERTI, especially if Martin is keeping a close eye on the radio, but every channel I try is vague and useless. I can only think that Martin might have had to turn the power off-"

'But why would he do that? Surely that would disable the radio?"

"He might have been forced to so he could try and conserve the little fuel he had, however the radio is linked to the power in such a way that most of the aeroplane functions can be turned off, but that will still work. So he _should_ be able to have the radio on no matter. I hope they are keeping watch."

Carolyn snorted.

"You know Martin- disobey a direct rule? And Arthur will probably be curled up around it like a little puppy. I'm sure we'll get there soon."

Douglas tried to smile, but he was getting a very bad feeling about this. Why could he not contact G-ERTI? He had been banking on telling Martin they would be able to come and get them, as soon as they themselves were retrieved, but apparently not. He stayed silent as Carolyn bustled around, locating cups and making him tea, and they both munched nonchalantly on some supplies from their bag. Carolyn paused  in her chewing.

"Hmm. The 'rescue team' are certainly taking their merry time, aren't they?"

"Yes, we did speak to them a while ago now- you would have thought that two foreigners trapped in one of their somehow precious cabins would be worthy of retrieval, but apparently not."

"You don't think…that they have decided not to get us?"

"They better had come and save us- there's probably paperwork and people they have to inform and things like that, you know how slow these things can be. It will probably take them a while to find a vehicle that can get through the snow, though I suppose they must have loads of those. We're probably difficult to find and after all, it's only the morning! Let's wait a while longer before jumping to conclusions."

 

They spent the rest of the day in a kind of bored stupor. Carolyn wished fervently that she had something other to do than stare at her wretched phone, and she was becoming more and more annoyed at it because she knew that the battery wouldn't last forever and when it was gone her chances of contacting Herc would vanish. She had no idea what she would say to him, but she couldn't just say nothing. Douglas was equally as frustrated, as he knew that he either had to catch G-ERTI's radio when Martin was using it himself or just hope that he had found the right channel. He gave up after a little bit and leaned back on the chair, vaguely staring at the wall opposite him. They didn't really talk, there was nothing much to say anyway, and for a while there was only the crackle of the fire which Douglas had re-stoked. It was very tortuous, the wait inside the dull little cabin, and soon it was slowly becoming late afternoon and as their shadows lengthened so did their worry. Where was the rescue? They were sick of waiting, and Douglas stood up to stretch his legs after his long mull in the chair. He passed Carolyn, and her mobile caught his eye. he blinked.

"Carolyn! You have signal!"

She had been staring mutinously at the wall for at least half an hour, and she leapt towards the phone. Her mind was blank, her fingers poised to type. But what should she say? She began with trembling fingers.

 

_We crash landed near Oymyakon, bad signal. No one is hurt badly, not even G-ERTI. We have made contact with the Russian authorities._

 

She hesitated, knowing full well that she couldn't just leave it at these hollow and formal sentences. She could tell that Douglas was trying not to be nosey, unusual for him, but she knew he had read it. He wasn't looking at her but she heard a soft whisper.

"Just tell him."

 

She typed the words with trembling fingers, hating the fact that it had taken a life or death situation for her to bring up the courage to do so.

 

_I love you too. C x_

 

She quickly pressed send, and ignored the slight grin which had alighted on Douglas's face. There. Even if further horror occurred, at least she had contacted Herc, finally told him what she knew he had been waiting to hear for such a long time. Carolyn did not relinquish feelings easily, and she almost felt that she had given up something precious; part of her heart had been sent with that text. The other part she had left on G-ERTI.

 

 

***

 

 

It wasn't long after Carolyn had sent the text when the radio gave an almighty buzz, causing them both to whip around and Douglas to hurry towards it. He flipped it on, and the voice on the other end was frantic.

"Ah sorry, sorry, we have been finding it difficult to-"

It cut out, and they both strained towards it.

"-Yes, very difficult. But we will try and-"

Douglas spoke clearly, trying to time his speaking so that he didn't speak when the radio cut out.

"The radio isn't working properly. Are you coming to get us?"

"What? Is very unclear-"

" _Are you coming to get us_?"

"Yes! do not worry, we shall-"

 

The radio cut off again, this time for good. But they weren't particularly angry about this- help was coming! They were no closer to knowing precisely when, but they knew it was definitely on the cards. Filled with a renewed vigour, Douglas leant over the radio again.

"I'm going to try and contact G-ERTI again. One last try."

Filled temporarily with a small sense of hope, Carolyn nodded and resumed her place on her seat, her head filled with thoughts of rescue. Martin would doubtless be annoyed with them for breaking their promise of returning, but they _had_ been trying to contact them. Suddenly, Douglas hit a certain frequency and his eyes widened in shock, hardly daring to believe it.

"I think I've found it! G-ERTI's frequency!"

He waited a moment, then spoke clearly.

"Golf Tango India, this is the voice of your saviour, Douglas Richardson. And that sort of angry squeak was Carolyn." 

There was no answer. Douglas's smile faltered as he exchanged a worried glance with Carolyn.

"Martin? Arthur? Are you there?"

He knew he had the right channel, he knew his voice must be ringing through the plane. There was no answer. His voice became desperate as he tried to speak loudly and clearly.

"Where are you? Why aren't you answering? Martin, Arthur-" 

There was a click as the radio stopped its transmission, and Douglas felt as if he could almost smash it. He was livid, how could they neglect something as important as the radio?

"Why the hell haven't those _idiots_ answered? We gave them one task! One!"

"Douglas-"

"I knew we should never have split up, how _dare_ they ignore it-"

"Douglas." Carolyn practically shouted it.

"Use your head. I don't think Martin or even Arthur would be foolish enough to ignore the radio. Therefore, we must assume that they _can't."_

Douglas's mouth worked, and it was clear that he was still trying to throw out some suitably vitriolic replies to this. But he sighed.

"Oh Carolyn, I give up. What do we do?"

 

She stared at him, utterly stunned. Douglas had never asked her for the next step; he would rather have suffered the consequences of a problem than beg for help. She knew that this constant swaying between success and failure must be wearing for him, hell, she felt pulled in so many different directions that she was surprised she wasn't stretched thin, but it seemed Douglas was approaching or had indeed approached his threshold. 

"Do? What do you think? We're going to wait here for rescue, then we are going to find those two and bash their heads together, yours included." 

The ferocity of her voice shook Douglas, and he looked slightly abashed. He was fighting the urge to suggest that they go back to G-ERTI as he knew it was idiotic, and he looked Carolyn square in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Come on, please can we play a word game or something? I feel like my brain is going to melt from lack of use." 

Latching on to the familiarity of this task, they drew their chairs closer to the fire and engaged in battle, all the while with an eye and an ear on the radio. 

 

 

 

 

_***_

 

 

 

Martin had wanted to stay awake all night, a punishment for his stupid mistake of missing the radio, but his fatigue and depression over the day's events led him into a kind of fitful slumber, and he dreamed of endless white paths leading to no one and nowhere. These ominous dreams were only broken when Arthur let out a large cough, waking Martin instantly from his horrible sleep, something which he was almost grateful for. He cast a critical eye over to Arthur; it had been difficult to see him in the darkness of the plane last night, and now as the feeble rays of sunshine washed over the injured steward, Martin took in his messy hair and pale cheeks. The bruises he had sustained in the crash-landing had not wholly faded, and with his tousled hair and coverings of blankets and clothes, he looked like an injured little boy. Arthur seemed to be trying to sit up.

"Arthur, take it easy. How are you feeling?"

Arthur's voice sounded like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper, rough and croaky.

"My head feels like its full of cotton wool, and not in a nice and fluffy way. Don't feel as weird as last night though."

Martin was immensely relieved. After wrapping Arthur's hands in the bandages he had wound them in a cloth to make sure that they at least would stay warm, as he knew that if he let them go cold again this would trigger the frostbite and Arthur in all likelihood would lose his hands. Arthur had stopped shivering some point before Martin had succumbed to his sleep, and the fact that he seemed to be less delirious than last night made Martin hope that Arthur had fended off the hypothermia, for now at least. He knew that Arthur had been pretty out of it last night, gibbering and confused, but he had a question burning in his mind that he simply _had_ to know the answer to; he needed to know if he was mistaken. He took Arthur's wrist, which caught his attention, and he looked expectantly at Martin's still pale and blue lipped face.

"Arthur, last night, you mentioned something about…about hearing Douglas's voice."

"Did I?" Arthur sounded surprised, and Martin's heart sank. He ploughed on regardless.

"Yes, you were quite insistent."

"But I couldn't have. Douglas isn't here."

"No." 

Martin didn't elaborate further, and Arthur just gazed at him, utterly confused. Then, slowly as it usually was with Arthur, it clicked. He gasped.

"The radio!"

"I think so."

Martin's voice was flat and indifferent, and Arthur couldn't believe what a colossal mistake he had made. What an idiot he was.

"Oh no, it was the radio! And I missed it! Oh, Skip, I'm so, so _so_ sorry-

"It doesn't matter."

Martin said this with an effort, his voice laden with feelings of regret, but he felt no real anger towards Arthur. He had been in no state to answer the radio, and he couldn't blame him. Arthur, however, seemed to think he had somehow condemned them to death, and his face was shining with tears. 

"It does! I don't deserve to be in here, I've caused nothing but trouble. You should just make me go outside and freeze, then I won't have to bother anyone a-anymore. "

"What? No! You're not going anywhere, Arthur. Forget about the stupid radio- I'm sure it will buzz again, and I'll make sure I'm here when it does. At least we know now that they managed to find a radio! They're safe!"

Arthur had not realised this, and the news that Douglas and Carolyn had at least been partially successful in their mission filled him with a burgeoning hope. He had a vague and hazy memory of hearing Douglas's voice, but he had stupidly thought it was his imagination. He wished that they could speak to them more than anything; he loved being with Martin, but he missed their usual quartet. He wanted to have a look at his hands, but when he tried to move them it hurt so much that he just gasped with pain and let them remain on his lap. Martin seemed to have noticed this.

"Don't worry about your hands, Arthur- I patched them up a bit but they're probably going to be a bit sore. I didn't see any blisters last night which is a blessing, as i have no idea what you would do with those. Do you think you need another painkiller?"

Arthur nodded; usually he was reluctant to use them, but if it helped to ease any of the pain he felt he was grateful for the help. Martin had left the packet next to his chair and he picked up the bottle of water next to him too. When he reached Arthur, he paused.

"Yesterday, I, er, I had to put the pill in for you. shall I-?"

"Oh, yes. Go on!" 

Arthur parted his lips so that Martin could pop the pill easily in his mouth, and he couldn't help but notice how chapped and sore they looked. He knew that he hadn't fared much better, but he hated this sign of discomfort on Arthur's face, as well as all of the other hurts that he had sustained in this godforsaken journey. He wondered whether they would ever fly through Russia again or whether he and Douglas would flat out refuse. Martin placed the pill carefully in Arthur's waiting mouth and put the water bottle up to his lips so Arthur could use it to help the pill go down and to try and hydrate his parched throat. It was a bit odd, giving Arthur water like this, but Martin was sure that Arthur would find difficulty in holding the water bottle. When Arthur had finished drinking he moved back from the bottle and there was a poignant pause as green eyes met blue. Martin coughed.

"Should I get us some food? I'm so hungry I could eat a polar bear!"

"You can't eat a polar bear! They're all furry and scary and ugh!"

"It's just a figure of spee- fine. I could eat a horse!"

"But why would you want to eat a lovely horse? They're all clippity cloppity and I love stroking their manes, oh I could _never_ eat a horse!"

Feeling that answering would be fighting a losing battle, Martin just chuckled and went over to the galley. They didn't have much food left at all, and he grabbed a packet of nuts, hoping that Douglas and Carolyn were close to rescuing them. Despite his jollity with Arthur, he still felt incredibly ill, and the pangs of hunger gripped him so fiercely that he almost wished he didn't have to share, however ashamed he was to admit these shamefully guilty feelings. But he wanted Arthur to eat as much as he himself wanted to eat, as he couldn't bear the thought of Arthur suffering even more. He came back to where Arthur was sat and opened the packet, politely offering it to Arthur first, even though his stomach rumbled mutinously. To his utter surprise, however, Arthur crinkled a nose up at it.

"Oh, actually Skip, my stomach's not feeling too good. You have it."

It was an odd thing to happen, as Martin was sure that Arthur would be as hungry as he was. 

"But…but..are't you hungry?"

"I'm feeling a bit queasy. Go on- I'll have something later."

Martin dug his hand into the packet and began to hastily eat the nuts, his hunger overtaking any suspicious feelings he may have. Now, Arthur was perhaps being slightly untruthful, but he felt he could say the almost lies because what he was saying was true- he did feel queasy. But he was hungry- it was causing him a lot of effort to sit there and watch Martin eat, but he was resolute in his desire. Martin looked absolutely _awful-_ dark shadows under his eyes, his skin far too pale, and Arthur had been hearing his stomach rumble for hours. In spite of his fears last night, Arthur was beginning to feel detached towards their situation, hardly caring what happened to him anymore. But Skip _would_ survive; he was too precious too lose. And if that meant giving up food, Arthur was prepared. 

 

They spent a while discussing where they thought Carolyn and Douglas had found help, Martin expressing a hope that they had finally found a town or city, and Arthur wistfully saying they might have found a kindly woodcutter or something, the sheer ridiculousness of which made Martin laugh.

"We're not in a fairytale, Arthur! And besides, I can't see any trees!"

"Ooh, but wouldn't it be brilliant? It would be such a good way to be rescued and he might have one of those sledges with the dogs! I tried to do that once with Snoopadoop but she isn't very strong so I kind of just stayed where I was."

"You tied Snoopadoop to a sledge?"

"Yeah! Mum wasn't very pleased but we get so little snow in Fitton that I was excited that I had to opportunity to finally try it."

"If we ever get back, I don't think I want to see snow _ever_ again."

They both tried to ignore the 'if', which lingered for a few moments after Martin had spoken. But they were at least a bit hopeful that Douglas and Carolyn had found somewhere to seek refuge from the cold. Martin tried to insert some hopefulness into the frigid air.

"I tell you what though- if we get back the first thing I'm going to do is have the longest shower of my life. I feel absolutely filthy."

Arthur knew exactly what he meant. It had been days now and of course they had no way of washing themselves on G-ERTI and no spare clothes, so he felt very unclean and grim, and the thought of having a wonderfully long wash and scrubbing the grime away was a lovely thought. He spoke in a dreamlike way.

"Oh, or a bath. A nice, long bath you can sink into. Mmm." He could almost feel it, the thought combatting the coldness of the plane, and it helped slightly, filling his head with happier memories.

"Oh yeah actually, maybe a bath would be better. Then I could just lie in it until it went cold, then hopefully the heating would work in my room for once so I don't have to feel the blasted cold."

"You should come to mine- our bath's huge and we always have the heating on when it gets a bit cold."

Arthur had said it without thinking much, and he blushed as he realised that he had basically invited Martin to have a bath round at his house, not something you usually asked a colleague of yours to do, not that he much regarded Martin as a mere colleague. Martin smiled, knowing that Arthur had only had innocent intentions.

"Cheers, Arthur. I'll keep that in mind." 

 

They spoke for a while longer, and they both wished that they could have a hot drink, but Martin was unwilling to leave G-ERTI just in case the radio rang again; not that he didn't trust Arthur, he just thought that it was wise to stay put and in reach of the radio. It didn't seem to be making a buzz though, and they were in for another futile wait. Martin wasn't bored though, as conversations with Arthur were generally anything but boring, as he seemed to have a lot of random knowledge stored in his head. In fact, the longer Martin seemed to spend with Arthur the more he realised that he wasn't indeed stupid- his thoughts were just jumbled in a different way, bolstered by his endless enthusiasm. You just had to accept the fact that Arthur didn't take much seriously, so it was better to just go along with what he said. The sky was beginning to look dark again, and Martin was beginning to feel slightly impatient, which did nothing to help his head which had been steadily aching throughout the day. Although he and Arthur had been trying their best to put up with it, it was still cold inside G-ERTI, and Martin was sick of shivering. 

"I wish we hadn't split up."

Arthurs voice was sudden and very sad, catching Martin's attention as it was a very different tone than the lighthearted topics of conversation that they had been enjoying throughout that day.

"I know. None of us wanted it."

"I mean, I'm glad they went to look for help, but I miss them."

Martin's voice was a little wry.

"Not having fun with little old me?"

"Oh no, Skip, of course I am! It's been…it's been brilliant."

Spotting Martin's raised eyebrows,he carried on quickly. 

"Alright, it's been freezing and painful and unlucky and whatever else. But I'm glad we spent it together. There's no one else I would have rather had to wait here in G-ERTI with."

Martin reflected on this. Whilst his time with Arthur had been filled with setbacks and disaster, if he was truly honest with himself he had to admit that he hadn't had a wholly horrible time. If he had spent it with Douglas or Carolyn, they surely would have had a massive falling out and he might have felt useless and unimportant, but somehow with Arthur this trip hadn't seemed absolutely hellish; it had been almost bearable. It was nice to be with someone who wasn't forceful or demanding, and he somewhat guiltily liked the fact that Arthur looked up to him rather than down a him like everyone else. Noticing the darkening sky outside, he stood up.

"Right, you _must_ be hungry now. Come on, I'll get you something."

Arthur nervously watched him bustle off, a protest dying in his throat. Even though he was hungry, he wished Martin would eat it instead, at least to try and encourage some warmth into that pale face, to still that ever growling stomach. When Martin returned, Arthur tried his best to look ill.

"Oh, Skip, I don't think-"

"Don't give me that. Why won't you eat anything?"

"I'm just not hungry."

His words were betrayed by an ill timed rumble from his stomach, which caused him to become very embarrassed to be caught out so thoroughly on the lie and Martin began to frown, thinking very hard.

"Arthur. Why aren't you eating?"

"I don't want to."

This made Martin's confusion deepen; he knew Arthur wanted to eat, if it was all he himself could think of he was pretty sure Arthur was focused on it too. Then Martin remembered one of Arthur's slightly frustrating, but perhaps more endearing qualities; he always put other people before him. Martin understood exactly what he was trying to do, and it filled him with an anger which burst through him, echoing through the plane.

"Don't you dare, don't you _dare_ not eat because you want me to. How could you think I would want you to starve? How could I talk to Carolyn knowing I had let you do that?" 

"You're worth more than me."

Arthur's words were soft, but just as intense as Martin's had been. They were both on their feet now, Arthur with his hands limply by his side and Martin with his fists clenched, tensed up like he was ready for a fight. 

"To who? How can you think you're worth nothing?"

"You're a _pilot_. I'm just a nobody."

The words in anyone else's mouth would have been bitter and cutting, but in Arthur's they were just breathtakingly sad. It made Martin feel unbearably worse because he knew that Arthur truly thought this, truly thought that Martin should be the one that survived this trip, and it made him want to reach out and shake him for doubting his self worth. 

"No! Don't you ever think you aren't worth anything. You're worth more, you're worth…you're worth _everything_." 

There was a shift in Arthur's eyes, an almost imperceptible shift, but it was enough. He had thought that Martin cared a bit about him, but he had never thought that he had particularly mattered to the pilot whom he looked up to so much. And here Martin was, practically spitting with rage that Arthur was prepared to do anything to make sure that Martin was the one who survived. Martin looked murderous, but Arthur had an obscene shiver of pleasure that he was acting so protective of him; no one usually cared that much, and he knew Martin only fought for what he truly believed in. Martin reached into his pocket and brought out the bag of nuts, waving them in front of him dangerously.

"I want you to eat these. NOW."

"Make me." 

Arthur hadn't meant to answer so insolently, but he didn't want to give up on his point so easily. Martin's lips tightened, and he advanced so that they were practically face to face.

"Arthur, _eat them_."

Arthur shook his head, staring evenly down at Martin, his lips pressed tightly shut. This was the final straw for Martin; he gave up on being professional, he gave up on pretending to be a responsible adult. He grabbed Arthur by his coat front and tried to stuff the food in his mouth, and when he met resistance he only shoved harder. It was a slightly low thing to do, as he knew that due to his injuries Arthur wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, but Arthur tried to retaliate by waving his arms around to try and ward off Martin. Unfortunately, this made him lose his balance, and as Martin had both his hands busy trying to get at Arthur they both crashed to the floor, Martin on top. They lay there for a moment, dazed, but Martin was the first to recover and took the opportunity to stuff the food into Arthur's briefly open mouth. He shot a triumphant "Ha!" as Arthur had no choice but to chew, as he didn't feel like he could waste the precious food by spitting it out. In his moment of triumph, Martin's face shone with happiness and pride that he had managed to get Arthur to eat and even though he looked ill, even though he looked tired out from their little exertion, Arthur didn't think he had ever looked so beautiful. 

 

He leaned upwards and kissed him.

 

It wasn't easy, as Martin was lying on him and he wasn't feeling particularly strong, but their lips crashed together in a messy cacophony of want and shock, a delicious meeting that spoke of their desire and desperation.  Martin's eyes opened wide as Arthur leaned into him, hardly being able to process that Arthur, _Arthur_ , was kissing him. Then, throwing all pretense away, Martin took Arthur's injured hands and lightly spread them on the floor so that he was now lying fully onto him, pressing his whole body onto the soft, reassuring shape of Arthur. They were both bundled in thick layers of clothing, but it was enough to be able to feel each other a little bit through the layers of fabric. It perhaps wasn't the most well thought out sort of kiss, both of their lips chapped and Arthur's mouth tasting of lingering food, but it was enough. Their lips moved against each other, now softly, and Martin couldn't believe it could feel so easy; how could kissing Arthur feel like the least problematic thing that had happened to them on this whole damned trip? They had to draw apart for air and a little rest, and Martin was inexplicably pleased that Arthur's mouth had gone from a cold looking blue to a lovely, kissed cherry red. He looked lovely. Martin had not really thought about Arthur being lovely before, but it was quite something to have his sweet face staring up at you as if you were his favourite thing in the world; if only Martin knew he was. Arthur broke the silence, his breath deliciously hitched.

"Thank you…Martin. You have no idea what that means to me." 

He couldn't help but shiver as his actual name rose off of Arthur's name, gilded with tenderness and delight. How long had he hated that name, the mundanity of it? He couldn't hate it on Arthur's lips. Martin moved his lips to the spot under Arthur's ear, his breath ghosting over the skin there causing Arthur to tremble as he whispered.

"And thank you, Arthur, for giving me something to fight for."

 

And it was true; Martin had felt as if all was futile, that there was absolutely no reason at all to try and survive this, but this kiss, this wonderfully shining sunbeam of a man had given him hop. Arthur smiled jubilantly, his eyes closed, and long dark lashes tickling Martin's cheek. It was utterly ridiculous, lying on the floor in a messy tangle of bodies, but they were already beginning to feel warmer, their bodies bolstered with love and happiness that they had finally acted on the feelings that had been creeping up on them, concealed underneath the surface but nevertheless there. Arthur gasped as Martin kissed the spot under his ear, and brought his arms around Martin, wrapping them securely around him as his hands could not.

"I could stay here forever."

 

The words were breathless, an emphasis that spoke of Arthur's utter truthfulness. Although their situation was rather dismal, the idea of lying in the plane away from the judgemental and often cruel outside, embraced and just consumed with each other was a tantalising thought. Martin brought his lips away from Arthur's ear and pressed his forehead against Arthur's so that they could feel their breaths on each others faces, a warm and reassuring feel.

"Me too. But I could do with a four poster bed and about one hundred cups of tea."

Arthur giggled, and the vibrations of his laugh rippled through Martin's body, pressed as it was against him. Martin shifted slightly, hoping he wasn't causing Arthur any discomfort.

"I'm not squashing you, am I?"

At this, Arthur let out another merry little laugh.

"Squash me? You weigh less than a teddy bear, Martin."

"I do not!"

The indignation of Martin's voice only continued the merriment.

"Yes you do! Anyway, let me just, hang on-"

Arthur began to struggle upwards, and Martin hastily moved off his lap and grabbed his arm, helping to lift him. No sooner had Arthur sat up then he grabbed Martin by the waist and moved him onto his lap; Arthur's legs wrapped around him comfortably and he snuggled his head onto Martin's shoulder. Martin leant into Arthur, feeling his strong arms around him, and wondered how on earth he had missed out on this his whole life. He reached up and grabbed a forgotten blanket from a seat, draping it over him and Arthur so that they were enclosed in its softness. Feeling rather brave, Martin grabbed Arthur's hands and placed them tenderly under his shirt  as he had done last night and onto his stomach, causing Arthur to give a little noise of surprise and then to spread his hands comfortably in answer. Martin tried not to gasp as Arthur's cold hands touched his stomach, but he knew Arthur still felt his little shiver. 

It was Arthur's turn to whisper softly into Martin's ear.

"Yes, definitely forever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the kiss, I have a habit of writing a whole lot before it happens, as there's nothing better than a nice build up, but sorry if it was a long time in coming!
> 
> I'm sorry to say I probably won't be able to post the next chapter until next tuesday as I am going to London to see none other than John Finnemore trying out his sketch show in a pub. I feel a bit bad, but I'm hopefully going to see the Finnemore himself! Hopefully I won't be feeling too embarrassed that I have written about two of his characters kissing each other XD
> 
> Til then have fun!


	10. Help and shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I am so sorry for being late with this chapter! I've been really busy, but I promised to have it done yesterday and just didn't have it finished, but here you are! I've had a blast these last couple of days and even got to meet John Finnemore himself, the wonderful and lovely human being that he is! He talks about Arthur as if he is a real person, as when I asked him something he laughed and said "Well, you'll have to ask Arthur about that!" 
> 
> This chapter features a certain Detective Inspector Shipwright, who's wondering what on earth is going on. Please, enjoy!

 

 

 

Herc stood in the departure lounge, his teeth clenched and feeling angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. People avoided his impressively brooding frame, skirting round him with their eyes focused on the floor as he fumed. Only yesterday he had returned from a long and annoying flight to Bermuda, and he had hoped that when he had gotten home he would be able to lie down on his sofa, kick of his wearisome uniform and have a long chat with Carolyn. Whilst chatting with Carolyn was not really something that served to relax one, sometimes being able to have a verbal sparring match after a day of refraining from snapping at irritating cabin crew was a welcome respite. But, when he had gotten home, any contact with Carolyn had been oddly absent, as he was sure that she should have arrived at her destination by now, and she always rang him up from her hotel room to moan about the incompetence of the others. But there was only silence from his mobile.

 

Now, Herc Shipwright wasn’t one to worry, heavens no, but he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at her forgetfulness. He sent her a couple of texts and lay down in his big, lovely, _lonely_ house, trying extremely hard not to let his twitching fingers touch the phone. When hours passed, he decided that something must be wrong; Carolyn would never miss an opportunity to tease him. He knew that they had been en route to Tobolsk- it couldn’t hurt to check? He found the number of the airport and put on his most honeyed tones, knowing he had some detecting to do.

“Hello? Is this Tobolsk airport?”

“Yes it is, how may I help you sir?” Ah, politeness- good start. Sometimes trying to get information from an airport secretary was like clawing through thick mud.

“My name is Herc Shipwright and I am a pilot for Caledonia air; we had a short cargo flight to your airport some months ago. I am trying to contact a small charter airline, MJN air, who were due in your airport some time today. Would you mind terribly if you could tell me if they had arrived?”

He had gilded his request with this pointless information as he knew they would be more likely to help him if he seemed like the sort intimidating pilot that would kick up a fuss. The kindly sounding lady on the other end seemed flustered but eager to help, and he could hear her typing quickly.

“MJN? Expected at Tobolsk and departing from...Fitton airfield?”

His heart leapt with a sudden hope.

“Yes! Did they arrive?”

Her voice was hesitant as she answered, and he could practically hear her frown.

“We have no record of them arriving. Are you sure it was supposed to be today? I will have a look to see if I can find the flight plan.”

Herc couldn’t say anything; his worst fears had been confirmed. It was very strange and very worrying that they had not even arrived at the airport.  He supposed that they could have diverted along the way, but he was sure that Carolyn would have told him about this by now. It was hours after they should have arrived.

“Oh, I have found it. You are right, they were supposed to have arrived four hours ago, but they never did. This is, most unusual.”

“Yes.” His voice was suddenly distant. “It is rather, isn’t it?”

“I will inform my superiors and we will launch an investigation. There’s no need to panic, Sir, I'm sure there has just been a mistake.”

It did seem likely that MJN had fallen into some unlikely and unfortunate circumstance, as they often did, but this situation didn’t sit well with Herc at all. He cast a sigh as he looked around at his house, feeling his jet-lagged libs ache.

“When is the next flight to Tobolsk, please?”

 

***

 

And now he had made it to the departure lounge, overly tired and worried sick. Carolyn had not replied to any of his messages, and he was worried about the whole crew as well. He couldn’t imagine Arthur trying to cope in a crisis, especially if he was isolated with an increasingly annoyed Carolyn and Douglas, but at least they had Martin who would know every correct procedure going. He was waiting to be summoned by the head of the airport, anybody who was willing to help him find out what on earth was going on. He was so tired, but he was not going to give up. One part of him, one quiet and reasonable part which whispered in the back of his mind, thought that he probably didn't have to fly all the way out to Russia, but the other far louder and angrier part squashed this tiny voice, adamant that he should be at the source of the trouble. And here he was. He tapped his leg impatiently, staring hard at the beige seat in front of him.

 

A while later, he jolted awake from a nap that he had accidentally fallen into as a meek looking lady in a smart suit prodded him gently. She spoke in a thick accent, but her English was excellent.

“Hello Sir, I am supposed to be taking you to my superior. Would you please follow me?”

She must have been the one on the phone, and he followed her gratefully through the airport and into an office in the back. There was a very tall and intimidating woman there with an even crisper suit, chatting to a man with a large black moustache. She turned as Herc entered the room.

“Hello, my name is Ms. Babikova and I run this airport. I have been told that you are the one that alerted us to this missing aeroplane, no?

“Yes, I am afraid I must have drifted off. It seemed a very long flight from Fitton to here.”

“This is understandable. Well, we have discovered in these hours that your aeroplane has not only not arrived, it has vanished.”

She said this in all seriousness, not a trace of humour in her voice, and it only exemplified how utterly serious this situation was.

“They have disappeared? What, no radio transmission, nothing?”

Ms Babikova approved of this man- he got straight to the point and it was a relief to have someone who knew what they were talking about, rather than someone who babbled nonsense and tried to get in the way. She felt she could trust him.

“Absolutely nothing. Although, I have conducted a bit of research and I have discovered that there has been a problem with some of our airfields' radio systems recently, something about people not performing their usual checks and causing them to be likely to break. So they might not have been able to contact anyone ground level.”

This was terrible news. Herc had the sudden and horrible image of the plane crashing down in the middle of nowhere, the crew trying frantically to contact someone, _anyone_ , and dying alone. But they wouldn’t have, they can’t have. They must be fine. He wouldn’t accept any other outcome.

“So they could have landed but not be able to contact anyone?” He asked, staring intently at the boss.

She heaved a sigh. They signs were not promising, and she half suspected that soon she would have to fill out a crash report, although she wasn’t going to let this concerned man man know this. She peered at him shrewdly- he looked alert but at the same time incredibly worn out. It would do him no good to make himself wait for information or news that could take hours to arrive.

“Mr Shipwright. My people are doing all in their power to ensure that this MJN will be found. There is nothing more you can do for today, and I suggest that you book yourself a room in a hotel because I think you are going to be here for a while.”

He stared at her incredulously. Leave? But he needed to be here, to help!

“But, I need-“ Her voice cut in firmly,

“What you need is rest. You may return in the morning for news.”

Knowing bitterly that he had been dismissed, he said his goodbyes and left the room, Ms. Babikova chatting to the man who had been stood there in silence in Russian, who must have been part of the grounds crew or someone on the search team.

 

He booked a room in a hotel that was adjacent to the airport so he could get there as quickly as possible and rang his employers, explaining the situation. They weren’t particularly pleased that he wouldn’t be able to work for an knowable amount of days, but MJN was infamous in the airline industry and they were just as curious as him to find out what had happened to them, and they knew that he had some kind of connection to Carolyn, although as her fierce reputation preceded her they had no idea what that might be. He lay on his bed feeling finally comfortable, but deeply troubled. His phone lay next to him, silent and unfeeling.

 

 

***

 

 

Two days later, and he actually began to think that he was going mad. They had made no headway in their search, no matter how much badgering and haranguing Herc tried to do. It was so bloody typical of MJN to pull a vanishing act, and he was annoyed that he seemed to be taking it the most seriously out of everyone. The other people at the airport did care, but they seemed to think there would be a valid explanation to why an aeroplane had vanished, but Herc knew something must be up. He was almost prepared to go out and conquer the wilds himself, but he knew his time would be better spent waiting at the airport with technology and help. He was just drinking another tepid cup of airport tea when the kindly secretary found him again.

“Hello, sir. We’ve just been contacted by some people who say that they have spoken to two people claiming to be stuck in a lookout cabin near Oymyakon.”

Two people? But why not four? Oh he did not, he really did not like the sound of that.

“Only two?”

“A man and a woman, it would seem.”

He almost heaved a sigh of relief at the news that Carolyn at least was alright, but he quashed this selfish thought. He cared a lot about the others too, even Douglas, and he wanted absolutely no harm to come to them either. His voice was shaky, devoid of his usual confidence.

“Do you have any more information?”

“They seemed a bit confused when we spoke to them, but they said that the man said there were two others still on their plane.”

They were safe! He could have cheered, but he still wondered why they weren’t all together. He hoped dearly that no one was so injured that  they were forced to stay on G-ERTI.

She had to excuse herself then, but she gave Herc a small sort of reassuring smile which he returned, feeling a slight hope blossoming in his chest. He sat on the chair basking in this feeling for a while, and so lost in his thoughts was he that he nearly didn’t notice his phone vibrate. Thinking it might be one of his colleagues enquiring about his trip, he opened the message without much enthusiasm. His heart leapt to his mouth when he saw the name of the sender: Carolyn.

 

_We crash landed near Oymyakon, bad signal. No one is hurt badly, not even G-ERTI. We have made contact with the Russian authorities. I love you too. C x_

 

His heart gave a painful pang as he read the words crash landed, but relief beyond words flooded through him as he saw that no one had been hurt, well not in a life threatening way at least. So engrossed in this information was he that he didn’t at first register the last part of the text. Then, as he concentrated on those words, such a simple sentence, his grin unfurled into a full blown smile, transforming his worried and tired face into a younger, more shining image. He knew he was smiling rather soppily at the phone, but he was just so happy that Carolyn had finally told him, even if it  was under an emergency. He had been waiting patiently for months until, as he knew it would, it turned into impatience as he needed to know how she truly felt. It wasn't that he was desperate for her affection, it was just that Carolyn was so hard to read that he didn't want to feel that he was pressuring her into something she didn't reciprocate. But she cared, she _loved_ him, and he knew he wouldn't rest until she was safe.

 

Later on he was wondering why, now they knew where Carolyn and the other member of MJN, he would hazard a guess at Douglas, were why the airport hadn't immediately launched into a rescue party. Ha had the impression that although he had been told today that the authorities had been contacted by the two in the cabin they had been contacted not today but before then. Why they had withheld their search he did not know, and so he requested to speak again to Ms. Babikova. The secretary seemed nervous, but he found himself in her office again soon enough, this time with her sat down and was tapping her long painted red fingernails on the desk in front of her. She did not seem surprised to see Herc again.

"Good afternoon Mr Shipwright."

"Yes, good afternoon Ms. Babikova. I have just been informed that two people have made contact from a hut, two of the people I am searching for."

Tap tap.

"Yes."

He waited for more information than this, but she did not elaborate. Beginning to feel annoyed, he continued.

"Well? Why haven't we gone to get them?"

There was a sigh.

"Mr Shipwright, do you know how difficult it is to organise a search party when the authorities think the people they are trying to rescue seem suspicious?"

"Suspicious? How on earth are MJN suspicious?"

"They have found themselves in a top secret cabin, talking about a plane no one else can find. It seems a little odd."

Herc could not believe this. Simply could not believe it. Carolyn and Douglas were the least unlikely people to be spies; Carolyn would get too annoyed with the people she was supposed to be spying on and Douglas would get so overconfident that he would probably swap sides because those he was supposed to be spying on probably offered him a better deal. 

"Believe me- the people who work for MJN Air are indeed odd, but they are definitely not spies. They would not pass the stealth test."

It hurt to think how excited Arthur would be if someone thought he was a spy, as he would probably try and prove how stealthy he would be and fall over in the process. He really hoped Carolyn's silly but lovely son was alright, and he couldn't stand the thought that help wasn't going towards them as soon as possible. Ms. Babikova's tapping had gone from rhythmic to annoyed now.

"I do not believe they are spies, Mr Shipwright. However, it just means it is taking a while to organise the search party. Rest assured it will happen, perhaps tomorrow."

"But they have been in that cabin for days! And goodness knows how the others are faring, trapped in that blasted aeroplane! Please, I'm begging you, we need to get them as soon as we can."

Herc was not a man to beg, and Ms. Babikova could see this. He was a proud looking, confident man, but here he was pleading for the safety of his friends to a stranger who had the power to refuse or help him. She was not a cruel lady, and it did sicken her to think of innocent people trapped in the cold with possibly no food or even a comfortable shelter. Forgetting her professional manner for a moment, she burst out.

"Damn paperwork and regulations! I will see what I can do, Mr Shipwright. We will find them. Now, I need to make some calls." 

He knew he was excused, and exited her office feeling still angry but at least relieved that she wanted to help him. It was beyond ridiculous that they had not even begun the search for the others, and he hated being told to sit and not meddle like a little boy. Tomorrow, if they hadn't started the search for the others, he was going to kick up a fuss worthy of Carolyn.

 

 

***

 

When Martin awoke, he wondered at the odd pressure that he had felt which had prodded at his consciousness, urging him to wake up. It took him a few moments to realise that it was kisses, Arthur's kisses, light and welcome on his neck. He blinked; he had never been kissed awake before. Arthur had brought his face up to Martin's briefly, and the movement of his eyelashes tickled his cheek. 

"M-morning, Skipper."

Martin frowned at the slight chatter of Arthur's voice, and drew himself closer towards him.

"Is there something wrong?" He wondered why Arthur had woken him up, a nice waking up that it had been, but he was still concerned. Arthur spoke in a very small voice.

"It's, oh it's gone colder, Skip. I don't know how but it has." 

And, without the pleasant wonder of waking up in Arthur's arms to distract him, Martin felt it. How it felt even colder, he did not know, and he felt a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his pervading hunger. He did not know how they were going to sit this one out, as his mind was screaming at him to go, to leave this cold prison that would surely only lead to their death. But they had promised to stay, and they had survived this long, and he did not want to lead Arthur out of the relatively safe interior of G-ERTI. It was very harsh and an impossible decision- a slow, freezing death inside G-ERTI or a slow and desperate death outside? He could not make the decision yet, and he cast around for distractions. 

"Ah, yes. Why don't we, I don't know, get up and have a walk round to try and warm up?"

Arthur felt miserable; he wanted to pretend to be happy, to be the cheery Arthur he always aimed to be for Skip, but his hands were hurting and his head was swimming and the thought of standing up and even pretending he was ok was too much to bear.

"I'm too tired to move." He admitted sadly. Martin drew back and stared at him worriedly, but Arthur wouldn't look at him after this shameful confession which left Martin feeling a little non-plussed.

"Oh, okay. Err, well, we can just lie here for a bit if you want."

"I'm sorry."

Sadness, though an odd expression on Arthur's usually shining face, made him very, very sweet, and Martin couldn't resist pressing a light kiss to that down turned mouth, surprising Arthur.

"Don't be. There's nothing I'd rather be doing." 

And it was the truth, in fact he wasn't sure he had ever said a truer word. He couldn't fathom ever wanting to get up from this lovely embrace just to walk around a cold and miserable aeroplane, and he wondered why he had even suggested it. They had no food anyway, and he supposed that the only thing worth getting up for would be in case the radio went off again; fat chance of that happening. He moved his arms, they had been crushed against his chest, and stretched them languorously around Arthur's body, trying in vain to enclose some heat around them and wondering how blissful this would be if they ever were in a more comfortable situation, with beds and cushions and radiators. Hopefully that time would come, but Martin couldn't summon much hope. He wanted to talk, to drive away the fear that was looming above them, seeping into the cracks and making it colder, colder. He looked up at Arthur, even lying down on the floor he still had to do that, and he was glad that Arthur's beautiful eyes conveyed a warmth that couldn't be destroyed by this hopeless situation. 

"Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"

Arthur licked his lips as if trying to encourage some moisture, allowing himself some thinking time. What did he want to talk about? He had known Martin for years now, knew what he liked in his coffee, how he took his tea, what time he usually woke up. But how much did he really know? Knowing that they were possibly on borrowed time, he felt curious about the past. 

"Would you talk to me about when you first joined MJN?"

This threw off Martin slightly. He felt slightly embarrassed, as he wasn't wholly sure that he had been particularly nice to Arthur when he had first met him. Oh, he had been polite enough, but he remembered when Carolyn had first introduced him to Arthur. She hadn't warned him about Arthur, and he was very nervous because Carolyn had already offered a ruthless impression and he had expected her son to be of the same mould. The only thing she had hinted was that the combination of her First Officer and son had scared off the last pilot, but he was fairly sure he could handle anything now he had the prospect of being a captain to bolster his spirits. Of course, although it seemed absolutely ridiculous now, Arthur _had_ been slightly intimidating, as he was fairly tall and strong looking, and Martin felt annoyed that he as the captain had to look up at the steward. He felt ashamed now at feeling so superior, but he had changed a lot in these past few years. But then, as he held out his hand rather stiffly to take Arthur's he remembered him letting out an almighty squeak and practically lifting Martin into the air in excitement.

'Oh, is this our new captain? Hi, I'm Arthur! And you're oh, I've forgotten,"

"Martin." He had said it with faint shock, completely thrown that the son of his austere boss was practically bouncing on his feet and smiling at him as if he was a christmas present he had just unwrapped. He had a little upturned nose that was crinkled in absolute joy, and his neat hair was bouncing as he moved.

"Oh, I remember! Can I call you Skipper?"

"I-I don't-"

"Yes, Arthur, that will be fine. Now will you please stop manhandling our new pilot before he's even started?"

Arthur had let him go, still smiling even though Carolyn had told him off, and Martin had straightened up his uniform, a bit frazzled. He smiled at the memory and for once the words flowed easily. He stroked Arthur's hair absentmindedly, running his hands through those once bouncing curls. 

"Well, I first joined MJN and I was finally offered this dream job, the thing I'd been working towards for God knows how long. Then I got there and it seemed too good to be true, and actual aeroplane to fly, _me_ as the captain. There was an absolutely mental steward too, come to think of it."

"Hey!" 

But Arthur knew he was joking, and Martin smiled as he carried on.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw you doing a safety demonstration; did you mean to fall onto the floor when you were talking about smoke inhalation?"

He was sure he could feel Arthur going red, finally a bit of warmth his face.

"Well, it was supposed to be realistic!" 

But something about this didn't ring quite true for Martin, and he laughed, an unusually throaty laugh which made Arthur squirm more.

"Are you lying, Arthur Shappey?"

"You made me feel nervous!"

What an interesting piece of information. It took Martin a few moments to digest this idea that he had made Arthur feel that nervous so early in their knowing of each other, as he never dreamed that Arthur would ever be nervous because of him. Martin's voice turned light and teasing, eager to get to the bottom of this interesting discovery.

"Ok then, how long have you liked me?"

Arthur seemed to think for a few moments, turning the question round in his head. He remembered being introduced to the new captain, looking far too small in his uniform and itching to prove himself. His Mum hadn't seemed that enthusiastic, but Martin had shaken his hand, solemn, ridiculous and utterly wonderful. 

"Oh, I knew in five minutes." 

"What? You knew what in five minutes?" This had thrown Martin completely. 

"I knew," Arthur spoke delicately, "That you…weren't like the other Captains."

For some reason, this confession said so sweetly and simply in Arthur's voice made Martin feel horribly guilty and he knew he had to admit his shame to try and wash away what he had been like in the past.

"But Arthur, I was a bit of a…well, a bit of a dick to you. At first anyway."

But Arthur shook his had fervently, causing Martin to shake slightly too, and he had a little sad smile.

"No, you weren't. Well, ok, maybe a little bit but everyone gets like that around me at first, Skip. But you weren't like the others. You've always had time for me, even if it's only been a little bit, and you always drink my coffee, and when you shout at me I know you aren't being mean."

"The other pilots didn't drink your coffee?"

"Yeah, they'd tell me not to bother sometimes. The second pilot mum employed left because of me, actually. He told Mum that she should hire a pretty air hostess rather than have me lumbering around and messing everything up. He was our best, well our cheapest, pilot other than you, but he told mum it was either him or me and she chose me."

Martin felt sad at the swell of pride in Arthur's voice, surely he didn't think for a moment that Carolyn wouldn't pick him?

"They sound horrible. I bet Douglas _loved_ them. I always forget Douglas was here way before I joined."

"Oh, Douglas used to be so bad towards the other pilots, he's gotten much better since you've joined you know. We were always hoping we could find a pilot who would get on with Douglas."

Martin almost snorted, but stopped himself.

"Get on? Arthur, have you _seen_ us?"

"Yes, I know you argue and stuff, but no one except me and Mum have ever lasted so long with Douglas. I know he tricks you and teases you, but I _know_ out of all of the pilots we've had that he's glad you're the one that's still here."

It was a lot to absorb, and Martin still felt incredulous. In the early days it had been a battle between avoiding Douglas's tricks and trying his best not to annoy Carolyn, with a spate of Arthur dancing round ridiculously in between. He realised that Arthur did indeed do a lot for him, make him tea, hung round with him at the hotels even though he could have gone out to explore, always was eager for a chat. He had been such a constant presence in his life that he wondered how he could have almost missed this clear desire of Arthur's.

"All the things you do for me… I never even realised."

"S'alright. That wasn't the point. I did it because I wanted to, not because I wanted you to notice."

It was too much for Martin, too selfless, and the only way he could think of putting his idiocy right was to just show Arthur how much he meant to him. He leaned upwards and kissed him again, his hands now on the back of Arthurs neck and legs wrapped around him, trying to just hold this precious man as tightly as he could, to claim him as his own. Arthur really did love Skip's lips, plump and beautiful, and they spent a while, lips pressed together and moving as one. When they stopped, reluctant as they were to do so, Martin spoke.

"I never, _ever_ thought I'd be kissing you inside of G-ERTI."

"Yeah, but it feels good to have her permission, you know?"

In a weird way, Martin knew what he meant. Without G-ERTI, he and Arthur never would have met, this mad, wonderful situation never would have happened and he still would probably be trying to find a job as a pilot and failing miserably. Even if they were stuck here, if help never came, had it really been such a bad life? To lie here, maybe in pain but in the arms of the person he cared for the most, was it such a bad price to pay? He was tired, so very tired, but he was glad that he and Arthur had kindled one last flame, one Arthur had been trying to keep alight for years but himself. Martin had to say something, even though his words barely hid his disbelief.

"If…when we get out of here, would you like to come for dinner at my Mum's? I- it won't be fancy, and she'll be questioning you-"

"Oh gosh, in a kind of," Arthur whispered the word as if they were made of light, "Boyfriend sort of way?"

Martin had hated the word 'boyfriend' before, felt it juvenile and stupid, but he rather liked the idea of it now. With Arthur, it seemed wonderful.

"Yes, if you like."

"Oh, oh I do. I really do. That's quite…"

It's what he had wanted for so long, hardly admitted even to himself, and he suddenly felt overwhelmed with the joy of it all. He buried his face into Martin's chest and could not be persuaded to move for a long while. Martin was pleased that he had finally managed to offer a bit of happiness for Arthur, even though the future he offered was vague and fragile. They were so cold and so tired and so ill that he knew he was just offering dreams, but they had ran out of everything else so maybe dreams were all they had left. It was a nourishment that he could provide, and he provided it gladly. While Arthur lay quietly upon him, even their close contact and happy thoughts could not wholly distract from the cold, and although the blankets were drawn tightly around them, still they shivered. Eventually, Arthur drew his head back and looked at Martin intently, his eyes redder than they had been before.

"Oh Skip, I'm having a wonderful time, such a lovely time here with you but even thought my heart's fluttering with little butterflies, I'm still so worried. I want…I want to find Mum and Douglas." 

Martin had half feared that Arthur would suggest this, the one thing he could not allow him to do, and he spoke with a heavy and sinking heart.

"We _can't_ , Arthur. We promised, you know we did. We've got to stay, can't you see that?"

"We're going to die here, Martin. That's all I can see."

The words were awful, and rang through the cabin with a horrible finality; the worst thing was was that they were utterly true. They both knew it, but Martin refused to let go.

"No. We won't-"

"Martin, look at yourself!" Arthur cried, sitting up.

"You look so tired, and I can't  stand it! I can't sit here and feel us freeze and know I could have saved us if only I had gone! Please we have to try, we _have_ to."

And Martin felt it. The time to make a decision, and he loathed it. He knew he was standing on a precipice of decision, and what he said would impact them immeasurably, would be the difference between finding help and failing. The aeroplane had become a death trap, but they weren't nearly prepared enough to go outside with no maps and supplied and absolutely no way to find G-ERTI again. He knew she was an icy coffin. He knew it, and he looked Arthur dead in the eyes and saw that he did too. Still, he said the words, his voice ringing with finality.

"I'm staying on G-ERTI."

Arthur knew he was going to come to that conclusion all along, and he couldn't even muster enough energy to be angry. He just looked at Martin in a clear disappointment. Martin stared back evenly, but did not waver in his decision. He had made a colossal mistake with what he had said, and he did not even realise. Arthur was looking at him rather coolly.

"I never thought you'd pick the rules over finding Mum and Douglas."

The words were horrible, all the more cutting because they had come form sweet Arthur's mouth, laced with disappointment. Martin wanted to argue, to shout, but he was just so tired.

"Sometimes the rules are all we have."

Neither spoke again after this, both locked in with their roiling thoughts. Although they were both rather stiff and frosty in their movements, they still lay together on the floor, as it was the warmest thing to do, and it would be foolish not to. Martin resigned himself to a sleep, and it was only as he drifted off that he realised his mistake. He had told Douglas and Carolyn that he would keep a watch over Arthur, and therefore felt duty bound to his word, to keep his promise to stay on G-ERTI until help came.

Arthur had not agreed to stay on the aeroplane.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I needed to include a bit about Herc as he is vital to the rescue party, but now it means I had three different storylines to macth up. I hope I did it ok, and we are getting closer and closer towards the end (though I usually say that and write thousands of more words). Also, I bet G-ERTI is pleased at playing cupid, although Carolyn wold probably be horrified at what was going on inside!


	11. Everything feels so different now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems a bit higgeldy piggeldy- I thought it was time to try and draw some of the storylines together, and there are lots of different bits! Thank you for reading, it's getting very tense!

 

 

Herc stood outside the airfield wrapped in his thick coat, shivering, but triumphant. Finally, _finally,_ they were going to go and find tho others, to save them from this hellish trip. It seemed that the search party had decided to aim for the cabin first as it was closer to where they were than Oymyakon Airfield, and they clearly wanted to question Carolyn and Douglas before they moved onto the mysterious grounded aeroplane. Herc ground his teeth impatiently when he caught wind of this, but kept his mouth shut, knowing that if he kicked up too much of a fuss they were liable to accuse him of being suspicious. But he had told them about Carolyn's text, and they seemed satisfied for the moment that he only had sentimental intentions and let him come along because Ms. Babikova had insisted upon it. It was snowing again, wispy little flakes that did not worry him, but Ms.Babikova who was stood next to him was staring at the flakes with a frown on her face.

'What's wrong? It isn't snowing that badly."

"No, but it was supposed to be clear today. I know these parts well; it could get worse."

But Herc refused to be battered down, and he was going to scream if anyone even suggested postponing the trip. Luckily no one did, and soon he was led towards a kind of fortified truck and heaved himself in. It was going to be a longish drive, but he was well prepared and ready to save the others. As they drove, he stared out of the windows as the whirling snow which was indeed picking up speed and hoped that this ordeal would soon be over. He had thought about texting Carolyn again and had only refrained thus far because he knew not to waste her time on unhelpful words, and he didn't want to get her hopes up. But he felt that now was the time to tell her they were coming. 

_I am on my way with help, stay put and we will be there as fast as we can. H x_

 

He hoped that she would receive it, so they would have some warning when this odd car burst into their view. He had been worrying for days now about whether they would have been stranded with supplies, as he knew form experience how poorly stocked G-ERTI could be, but surely they had some things squirrelled away on their surprising aircraft? Carolyn and Douglas were hardy old things, so he was sure they would be able to weather any discomfort. Honestly, he should be more worried about how angry and bored they were going to be when he finally arrived. For once, he was going to be wholeheartedly glad to hear a tirade from Carolyn and sarcasm from Douglas and he half expected he was going to get an earful for arriving so late. He tried not to think too much about Martin and Arthur, because he knew they were less practical and more liable to panic in this sort of situation. At least they had each other, and no one was alone.

 

*** 

 

Carolyn and Douglas were both feeling very despondent in the cabin, having heard nothing from either the radio or their phones. They had tried using their phones to call someone, anyone, but they had not been able to get through. They knew that Herc was on their trail, but this information did not sate their desire for knowledge of their situation. Douglas could clearly see that despite the reassurances that help was on its way with every day, with every minute, with every second Carolyn was itching to go back to G-ERTI and find out how the silent Martin and Arthur were doing; he knew this because he felt it himself. Their lack of contact, whether through absentmindedness or a more sinister explanation, was incredibly worrying, and if they hadn't have made contact on the radio with the Russian people then he knew Carolyn would have left the safe haven of the cabin a long time ago. They had finished the last of their food that morning, and the slight hunger creeping up on them was making them both feel tetchy, and they felt all the more tetchy because they knew the others had even less. They had been so long, they _knew_ that the heating must have been turned off inside G-ERTI by now, and they feared that if help didn't come in the next day or so then they would go back to find Martin and Arthur frozen. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

 

Just when Carolyn decided that she hated the cabin and wanted to leave right now, her phone let out a telltale buzz and she snatched for it so fast that she was in danger of toppling out of her chair. Douglas had zoomed to her seat as she read.

"Well?"

She read out the message and they exchanged a meaningful glance. So, Herc was with the rescue team and they were finally coming to get them. Carolyn was so glad, so immeasurably glad that they were finally being saved, but she couldn't fathom why it had taken them so long. Even though she knew that she was lucky to be alive, she felt that she was going to file a hefty complaint when she got back to Fitton. Douglas cracked a smile at her, the first true smile of his she had seen for a long time.

"So, help finally comes and Hercules is at the helm. I might die from embarrassment."

"Ah yes, you will be in his debt. I bet that _stings._ "

Douglas sniffed in contempt.

"I'm sure I can think of some occasion in our past acquaintance that Herc already owes me for, and due to my knack of getting people out of sticky situations I feel that we will be even."

"Remind me never to save your life."

"I'm hurt. Let's not forget I bothered saving yours."

Their tones had been lighthearted, but Douglas couldn't help a slightly bitter tone creep into his voice, something which Carolyn definitely caught. But, she had to admit he was right, as loathe as she was to admit it she probably would still be lying out there in the cold if Douglas hadn't carried her.

"I am grateful for that occasion, Douglas, or would you like me to thank you again? I thought you were beneath petty grovelling?"

"Not when it's you doing the grovelling. That I could listen to all day."

She shot him a withering look, but he just laughed throatily at her, and now they knew that help was on its way waiting in the cabin and doing nothing seemed easier. It was still boring and frustrating, but oh it was easier. 

 

 

***

 

After a while, Arthur extricated himself from the clinging arms of Martin, which were still holding him tightly despite the definite frostiness between them that had descended beforehand. Martin did not stir as Arthur drew away from him, and so he quickly made sure his coat was properly done up, he had as many layers on as possible and was ready to go in moments. He took one last look at the still body of Martin, and it took him a massive amount of effort to draw his eyes away from the man who he loved, but had hurt him with his stubbornness. He knew it, he had always known it; he loved Martin. And he couldn't tell him because it would make everything much harder. He reached for the handle, and heard a tremendous voice behind him.

"I _can't believe_ you're doing this."

How easy it could have been to just ignore this accusation, to walk through into the whirling maelstrom and away from what could only be a fight. But Martin's voice, though incredibly angry, contained such desperation that Arthur was drawn inexplicably back towards the inside of the plane, towards angry words and a desperate love. Martin was struggling to rise and he gripped the armrest of the seat in front of him and wobbled on his fatigue stricken limbs, weak but resolute. 

"You thought I was sleeping. How on earth could you do that to me?"

"Martin, you're sick, you need help. I'm going to get help."

'Don't-" Martin had his fists clenched so tightly, his face screwed up in anger. His voice was cracking in his rage, loud and screeching.

"Don't you _dare_ pretend this is about helping me. If you don't want to stay here with me and wait that's fine. But don't lie to me."

Arthur was not lying, but he knew Martin in his state would never believe him. He did truly believe that by leaving he could find help, and he just couldn't stay here and wait in the freezing plane knowing it was too late to leave. He also knew, with a horrible, awful realisation, that he couldn't allow Martin to come with him. He would go alone, and if he failed he would fail alone. Martin was too precious to lose, and Arthur was willing to go. 

"Think what you want. But I'm going, Martin. I'll be back." 

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Or, if it wasn't a lie it was a false promise, and neither even pretended to believe that this would actually happen. Martin edged closer to Arthur, his body still tensed as if he was fighting the urge to run Arthur to force him to stay, but Arthur moved closer to the exit in retaliation. Martin stopped just a few paces away, his clenched hands now unfurled and moving as he tried to control his anger. His eyes were shining with anguished tears, and he could see that despite Arthur's affected coolness, he was close to breaking when he saw the tears. Martin hated crying, hated showing this weakness in front of anyone but he had to make Arthur see sense.

"Arthur, if you leave through that door I'll never see you again."

They were heartbreaking words, and Arthur knew that if he let this conversation carry on then Martin's shining, sad eyes would draw him back in or Martin would follow him. He had to leave, and soon. He spoke curtly.

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Use your brain, Arthur-"

"Oh, are we back to insulting me now? I _am_ using it Martin, I always use it and no one ever notices or cares. You're being stupid- waiting in here for nothing and no one and just wanting to give up. What happened to you, Martin? When did you start to give up?"

They were cruel, cruel words. The thing was was that Martin was not giving up, he was just trying to do the best he could in an impossible situation. In that moment, he felt like he almost hated Arthur, but deep down he knew it was just the illness and fatigue talking. He wanted it to stop, for Arthur to stop this silly game. Arthur might like games that nobody won, but Martin wanted to win this one. 

"I'm not giving up. I want you to stay here, with me. We'll wait, and no matter what happens we'll be together."

This was the biggest challenge for Arthur, the best and only offer Martin could really make. In that moment he wanted to stay, but he knew he had to leave. In a wild, illness induced and delirious way, he felt that him leaving would be a catalyst for change, would break the monotonous spell that he and Martin had been a victim of for days now. If he left, something would happen, whether for better or for worse he did not care. He did not care about the radio. He did not care about anything much. 

"You're a coward."

The words hit Martin like a knife, unexpected and terrible. He gaped at Arthur.

"W-what?"

"I said: you're a coward."

These words riled Martin like no others. A coward, was he, for wanting to stay put and protect Arthur? A coward for following instructions and picking the safest option? 

"And you're a fool, a heartless fool. You are going to _die_." 

Arthur knew the damage had been done- he could leave now and knew that Martin would be too angry to try and follow him. He turned and was surprised as he felt Martin leap forwards and grab him with a violence he had never, ever expected him capable of. He wasn't trying to hurt Arthur; he had grabbed his hands as he left, trying in vain to stop him from going, to root him to the aeroplane. Even though Arthur had been cruel to him, even though he thought he didn't care, Martin clung on, trying in vain to anchor this ridiculous man to their once safe haven which had become a deathtrap. Arthur felt a burst of emotion that Martin still cared enough to want him to stay, but Martin had grabbed him by his still injured hands and the pure pain of it cut through his tough act, letting through a true gasp of pain.

"You're hurting me, Martin."

Then, as he registered what he was doing, Martin let go. Arthur jerked away from him, watching carefully as Martin stared at him in horror.

"No, I didn't want, I didn't mean to hurt-"

"Goodbye, Martin." 

Arthur turned towards the door and seeing him actually turn away from him, to actually take a step forwards caused Martin to lose any attempts at pleading that he had tried. Arthur's words had been calm, melancholy, but Martin's were the polar opposite and rang through the cabin like a shot, reverberating and full of acid.

"Fine, go! Leave! Go on, and don't bother coming back!"

And with that, he was gone. If Martin had been able to see Arthur's face, he would have known that it costed Arthur everything to put one foot in front of the other, to leave on such a hateful note; he hated that what he needed to do had come with such a price as Martin had in a way given him permission to leave. He might not have meant it, but Martin by shouting those last few words he had finally given Arthur the excuse to leave. He couldn't even turn back and drink in one last look at Martin's exhausted and defeated frame, but had vanished through the door with the sounds of Martin's continued shouts of "Leave!" ringing painfully in his ears. Only Martin remained, rooted to his promise and hating himself. He sunk to the ground and sobbed, his mind poisoned with the knowledge that whenever he had broken down like this in there last few days he always had Arthur to comfort him, to make the world seem brighter; now, he was alone. He might be fulfilling his promise to stay on the aircraft, but he had failed spectacularly in his promise to Carolyn that he would look after Arthur. For the first time he felt that he didn't care about the pure coldness of the cabin; he felt that he deserved it and the miserable temperature fed his miserable heart.

It was only when his leg nudged something strange that he stopped his anguished sobs. He picked up the offending object; it was the silver dog from the monopoly board, and it must have rolled out of the box as they carried it to be burnt. He held it in his hand, a small talisman to remind him of Arthur, and for a brief moment it made him forget his anguish and sadness, and he began to think properly. Slowly, at an unbelievably sluggish pace he started to realise what Arthur had done, this last performance he had put on for Martin's sake. He wanted to make sure Martin stayed behind, Arthur had wanted to rile him up so that he could have an excuse to leave, and Martin realised that he had done just that. He thought that Arthur's eyes had contained an odd expression in them, as they should have been full of hate and reproach, but now he thought about it they were filled to the brim with regret. He should have been angry at Arthur for trying to manipulate him like that, but he realised, as always, that Arthur was trying to help him. Arthur truly thought he was going to save Martin by leaving, and Martin realised with a desperate crashing in his mind that he should have gone with him. The promise to stay on G-ERTI should have been meaningless once it was clear that no help was coming, and he felt utterly stupid that he had not just gone with Arthur, refused letting that one fragile and precious man battle the world by himself. For Arthur's plan would have been perfect had he not forgotten about one thing; the love Martin felt was just as strong as the love that forced Arthur to leave. They should have faced the world together; they were hopeless alone. He knew he had left it far too long, but Arthur would not be alone. Forget the radio, forget even being rescued, he needed to find Arthur. If they got lost, if the worst happened, they would face it together. Forever and always.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It was not a pleasant car ride through the snow, and Herc stared out of the window despondently. There was little talk, not least because the inhabitants of the car had little in common other than this momentous task they were undertaking, but mostly because the atmosphere inside the vehicle was so tense. Everyone knew that they had dallied for too long, and every second they had wasted could end in disaster, or finding the lost crew in a terrible situation. Herc thought at first that they were going to make painful progress through the snow, but the truck ploughed on steadily, and the white surroundings passed in a blur. Herc had been told that they would have deployed a helicopter a long time ago if the weather conditions had allowed it, but this just had not been a possible outcome; this is one of the reasons why they had been so slow to come to the rescue- they had been trying to decide the best mode of action and the debate had somehow overtaken the need for speed. Retrieving the crew by truck was the best they could ask for at the moment, and Herc tried his best to feel grateful. He knew that there was another truck following some way behind which contained medical equipment, though he hoped against hope that this wasn't going to be necessary. Ms. Babikova, who had deemed it appropriate for herself to oversee the search party, had quietly suggested this precaution to her fellows, as she had a rather more dour view of the situation. She respected the fact that Herc had not let his obvious anger brim over, and she knew that the woman they were off to find was a lucky one indeed. 

 

Hours passed and Herc was beginning to feel a thrill of excitement, they had to be close now- they had to. He could hear the two men in the front of the truck garbling in hurried Russian, and knew that one had been set the task of navigating them to the elusive cabin, and he sincerely hoped that he was doing a good job of it. When the man began to gesture excitedly, Herc looked up at Ms. Babikova in an expectant way, hoping she would translate. She smiled.

"They think we are only minutes away. Thank goodness."

Herc almost felt like he could relax; it would be so easy to give his body over to relief and sink exhausted in his seat. But the two in the cabin might still require his help, and he would need all of his wits about him to handle and angry and neglected Carolyn. Soon enough, when he peered out of his window he could see a dark shape alight in the distance, and his heart kept with absolutely unadulterated joy as he registered that this had to be the cabin. They drew closer and closer and it loomed steadily; Herc could see that the lights inside it were on, which was definitely a positive sign. The truck stopped a little way away, and they all disembarked as quickly as they could manage in the cold. It was clear that the one who had been driving wanted to get to the door first, but Herc pushed impatiently to the front and banged on the door.

"Carolyn? It's me! It's Herc! Open the door!" 

He half expected that he would have to bang on it for a very long time, but not long after he had shouted the door swung open and there she was, just as annoyed looking as he remembered, just as ready to argue, just as perfect as always. It was obvious that she had been waiting near the door and she tried to fight the traitorous swell of emotions she felt at seeing an extremely tired but determined looking Herc at her door with a vague attempt at her usual snappishness.

"Alright, alright. Don't knock the door down-"

She stopped as Herc took a small step forwards, clearly wanting to reply with some sort of witty retort. Then, he noticed how very tired she looked and his eyes were drawn to the unhealed cut on her forehead. Not caring in the least what she would feel about it, threw himself at Carolyn causing her to reverse back into the cabin, overwhelmed by the taller man. Douglas watched in immense amusement as Herc squeezed the indignant Carolyn, who was limply trying to bat him away.

"Hercules Shipwright, I am _fine_. Don't you mollycoddle me-"

"Shush, you. I am going to mollycoddle you as much as I want. You have been missing for _days_ -"

Douglas called from afar.

"I'm here too, you know." 

Herc ignored him.

"And I have been painstakingly trying to find out why. And now I have found you."

Carolyn looked up at him from his tight hold, ready to argue more but was dazzled by the sheer look of happiness and relief that she found there. She knew Herc said that he would try and find her, but she hadn't really expected him to come personally. The fact that he was here meant more to her than she could say, would say. Before she could stop them, the words tumbled out of her mouth unbidden.

"I…I have missed you."

And Herc kissed her.

Douglas watched, half amused and half revolted, as Herc kissed the surprised Carolyn, and he half expected her to punch him for being so forward. But although she at first had half the mind to do just that, it was a welcome relief to the stress she had felt since this whole damn trip had begun. When they didn't pull apart for a few seconds, Douglas coughed pointedly.

"I'm still here, unbelievably. And I feel like I should also mention that you have an audience."

They broke apart at this news and spun round to see the other members of the rescue team goggling at them. Herc waved his hand at Carolyn.

"Oh, hello everyone. This is my-"

Carolyn raised her eyebrows, promising that anything he said next would be met with all the fire that she could muster. He gulped.

"My Carolyn. And this is Douglas. Only two out of four, I am afraid."

Obviously trying to maintain some control over the situation, the driver of the truck stepped forwards and stood ramrod straight, obviously trying to appear big and important, which was a difficult feat next to the impressively tall figures of Douglas and Herc.

"Yes, where exactly are the rest of your crew?"

Douglas decided to handle this one.

"They are still on our crashed plane back to Oymyakon airfield. We, er, can't exactly remember the way back."

"This is fine- we will be able to navigate out way back to there. Though it would be easier if we could contact the plane to get coordinates or to at least tell them we are coming. We have not been able to contact this plane yet, have you had any success?"

The news that not even the authorities had been able to get through to Arthur and Martin caused Douglas and Carolyn to exchange a horrified glance. So no one had heard from the other two. Could it be possible that they weren't on the plane anymore? But surely not, surely even they would not be that idiotic. Carolyn spoke this time, and Herc immediately felt worried as he caught the slight wobble in her voice.

"We have not managed to contact them, no. We have tried, but we weren't successful." 

There was a slight silence as everyone considered this problem. No one wanted to be the one to suggest that perhaps the other two were in danger, though it was obvious that everyone was thinking it.

"Well, we might as well…we might as well go to the aircraft anyway. Come on."

It was rather a bittersweet moment, as Carolyn and Douglas were immensely glad to be leaving the safe but tiring cabin, but they were filled with trepidation at what they might find, or indeed not find, when they got to G-ERTI. They all piled into the truck, and Carolyn was so preoccupied with worry that she didn't even complain as Herc took her hand. Herc tried to cast about for something, anything to lighten up the situation, and his eyes rested on Douglas.

"Nice backpack, Douglas."

"It is rather fetching, don't you think? It was Arthur's."

They all caught the accidental 'was', and after that they didn't talk much, and just stared outside in expectation. 

 

 

***

 

 

Martin looked round at faithful G-ERTI, the one thing in his life that had brought him happiness, who in a way had brought him Arthur. He couldn't be annoyed that it was because of her that they were in this dire situation in the first place; misfortune was rife in the world if you happened to be Martin Crieff. It felt like a betrayal to abandon her, as he knew that once he had gone after Arthur the chances of ever finding his way back were slim, so it was with utmost reluctance that he started his preparations to leave. He didn't have much to prepare as he only really had the clothes on his back, but he pocketed the little silver dog which lay safely nestled against his remaining match. He had absolutely no idea what had happened to Douglas and Carolyn, and he knew that if there was any chance that they managed to get back to G-ERTI then he owed them an explanation for why he had abandoned the aeroplane, the one thing he had explicitly promised not to do. He knew that whatever he said would never be enough, would never ever explain adequately the emotions he felt, but he knew he had to leave something behind. He took the plastic sheet of instructions intended for passengers informing them what to do in case the plane crashed which was stuffed in a pocket behind one of the chairs, as there was a bit of space at the bottom which he could write on. He hoped that the biro he found would write on this slippery surface, and to his astonishment with a little persuasion it did.

 

_I'm so sorry Carolyn, Douglas. Arthur has gone, and I should have stopped him but I couldn't. Don't be angry at Arthur- I should never have failed him and it's my fault he left. I've got to go and find him, and I know you will be so angry at me, but if I have to fix anything then I have to fix this. It's my fault, and I'm going to try and save him. I know one day you will understand._

_I hope that you are both safe._

_Martin._

 

He wanted to write more, to say so much more, but he was running out of room so he had to be content with this minuscule message. He laid the sheet onto the floor in front of the door so that if anyone entered the aeroplane then they could not possibly miss it. He gathered up all of his courage, he knew he would need all that he owned and more, but he was bolstered by the knowledge that Arthur was alone, and possibly frightened. He was sure that Arthur would be lost by now, and the image of him stumbling around in the snow eradicated any anger he'd had in the past and just caused him to speed up his actions. He took a deep breath and plunged outdoors, gasping as the full force of the cold air assaulted him, and cursed the fluffy flakes that were falling down. He could see erratic footprints leading away from G-ERTI, and he knew he must follow. Hoping desperately that Arthur had not gotten so lost that he could not find him again, Martin ploughed on into the unknown.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

If Martin had known that Douglas and Carolyn would arrive back at G-ERTI a while after he had left, would he have withheld his search for Arthur? He wouldn't have, so it was perhaps bittersweet that his footsteps had mostly been covered by a fine layer of snow by the time the truck drew up to the stationary aircraft. They knew that because there was no evidence of the lights being switched on that the power had been turned off, but they so far had no reason to suspect that it was empty. It looked forlorn, a small tube of metal surrounded by endless white, but they all felt a certain surge of joy as they took in their slapdash aircraft. When the other men saw it, one whistled.

"You managed to land _that_ in a snowstorm? By God-"

"Yes we did. rather well, actually." 

Douglas's tones were frosty, and there was a large commotion as they all scrambled to get out of the truck. They were glad for their gloves as they gripped the hand rail as they ascended the slippy stairs, and when he reached the top Douglas called loudly,

"Martin, Arthur, we're back! Open the door!"

They all waited, huddled uncomfortably on the step, but there was complete silence after his shout had faded away. They were all thinking the same thing, but Douglas refused to be drawn into these horrible thoughts.

"Open up, come on! Come on-" 

He stopped talking immediately; he had reached for the handle and was expecting a resistance but the door opened freely, clearly unlocked. This was a bad omen- why would they have neglected to lock the door? He pushed his way into the aircraft, noticing with a jolt how absolutely freezing it was inside; perhaps slightly warmer than outside but abysmally cold all the same. He couldn't imagine how they would have survived in this, and he had so many questions but it was obvious that the plane was empty. He was pushed further in as everyone else stumbled into the aircraft with much cursing and muttering. Eventually they all became still, and Carolyn spoke in a hollow voice.

"They aren't here. I can't…I can't believe it."

There was a slight scuffle as someone tried to move further into the aircraft.

"There is something under my foot." 

One of the russian men had spoken, and frowned in confusion as he lifted up the plastic sheet that everyone else had accidentally walked over. This baffled everyone for a moment, but the familiar flash of Martin's handwriting caught Douglas's eyes as the man waved the sheet.

"It's got writing on it! It must be a note! Give it to me."

He snatched it from the man, furiously scanning the words with the eyes of everyone watching him intently. A panic descended as he brought a hand up to his face, cupping it in pure anguish.

"Oh, _Martin."_

"What, what is it?"

He handed the sheet wordlessly to Carolyn, still with a hand on his face. She read, her eyes darting across the page with extreme speediness, and she looked rather faint when she finished reading. 

"Oh no. Oh Douglas…how are we ever going to find them?"

He didn't have the answer, he did not know what to do in the slightest. The cruelty of the situation gripped them in its iron fist, and the others were beginning to feel this too as they passed the note around, Ms. Babikova solemnly translating for the others. Herc felt utterly destroyed, he thought he had been successful but this reeked of failure. He tried to speak, but his voice was as hollow as Carolyn's as he turned to Douglas.

"How long do you think they've been gone for?"

"Who knows? Could have been hours, could have been yesterday for all we know."

"Why is the power off? That must have been one of the reasons why they left."

They both mused briefly about what might have caused the two to turn off the heating, and Carolyn cast a cursory glance around the cabin, almost as if she was hoping that either Martin or Arthur would jump out from some hidden nook and cranny and explain that this was all just a horrible misunderstanding. But no such thing happened, and her worry only deepened as she took in the mess lying freely in the cabin. Martin in his normal state would never, ever let things get this out of order, and it worried her to know that his mind must have been occupied on something else entirely. Her eyes were drawn to something red on a chair nearby. 

"Douglas, Herc, the first aid kit is on this chair. We have to find them."

They whirled round and saw her pointing at the offending object. There, nestled innocently but opened ominously was the first aid kit, a definite sign that something bad had happened. They all knew they were going to have to find them, and no one wanted to think about whether this would be dead or alive. They had been so close, so very close, and it would be a folly to give up now. Douglas looked at Carolyn, with eyes empty of hope and happiness, but determined to try. 

"Yes. Let's go." 

 

*** 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end now, sorry to be so cruel to our beloved Skipthur. But is Martin the type to sit safe and not go after Arthur?
> 
> Also, my geography skills have once again failed me, so in this universe Oymyakon is closer to Tobolsk than in real life, you just have to believe!


	12. Deep in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, everyone is on the move and the clock is ticking. I hope you'll enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Arthur had made a mistake, a colossal, terrible mistake. He had thought that by leaving he would somehow stumble across help, would somehow find a shining answer to all of his problems, but he was just a stupid fool stumbling around in the endless white with nowhere to go and nowhere to return to. Martin had been right, he should have listened, and his hands were _burning._ He had remembered somehow in the fug of his mind which direction his Mum and Douglas had taken so he had set off to follow their footsteps, long since gone but hopefully in this direction. But he had overestimated in his desperation how much energy remained in his tired and frail body, and he could feel that with every leap and scatter he made through the snow, his small amount of energy was dwindling and dwindling down, until the burning of his hands and legs almost overcame him. It was strange in the cold to feel such a burning, but he knew it couldn't mean anything good. He wished Martin was here; how could he have left Martin behind? For, despite his limp reasoning that he was going on the search for help, that is exactly what Arthur had done. He knew then that he had spoken wrongly in the aeroplane; _he_ was the coward. Why couldn't he have been braver and stayed in the aeroplane? He was scared of dying in there, enclosed and hopeless, and he had been scared of seeing Martin succumb to the same fate. It hurt so badly to be away from Martin, but at least he wouldn't have to see him suffer. He felt like an utter coward. 

Overcome with shame, he stopped. He used to love the snow, how he used to dance around in it and feel the icy flakes on his fingers, breathe in the frigid air and tremble with the joy of it, knowing in the back of his mind that however cold and wet he became he always had a warm home to come back to. Sure enough there would be an irritated Mum chastising him about staying too long in the cold and dripping on her tidy carpets, but she was always ready with a towel or a hot drink. Now though, even he could not summon any joy to transform this dismal landscape into a place of wonder. He hated it, and this is what worried Arthur the most; he was frightened of hating things because those who lived their life in hatred often were hated themselves. That was one thing that his father had taught him.

He had been so sure that to go forwards would be to go to victory, would be a success, but now he could not bear going onwards. He dearly wanted to be back inside G-ERTI, and he would grovel and beg for Martin to forgive him; he hoped he would. He tried to take a step forward and did not notice a rock which was innocently jutting out of the snow beneath his feet; he immediately tripped over and fell face first into the snow. Spitting the ice from his mouth, he scrabbled around desperately on the ground, slipping and sliding until he had enough purchase to lift off. He had not hurt himself, but he felt very disorientated and lifting off of the ground made his hands throb. He decided he was going to go back to G-ERTI _right now_ , to hell with this stupid search- he would go back the way he came. He would go back…but which way had he come from? He felt a slow wave of unease as he spun around on the spot, trying furiously to remember which way he had come from. Even in places with more distinguishable landscapes than these lumps of snow he had difficulty with directions, and now of all times his head felt stuffed with cotton wool, unyielding. He was fairly sure he had come from the left…or maybe it was the right? He tried to search for the stone to orientate himself, but it eluded him. _Come on Arthur,_ he thought to himself. _Confidence, you're not stupid you've just always lacked confidence._ He needed to make a decision, so he went with his original choice. He plodded on determinedly, hoping against hope that he was right. 

 

***

 

Martin was out of breath, gasping as he tried in vain to fill his lungs with the frigid air. He had been trying to run for as long as he possibly could, and he could feel his energy waning even as his mind became more determined to plough on. He was not going to give up; Arthur had been gone for too long. But he had to slow down as he was breathing too hard and it was taking a massive toll on his body. Ok, so running was a bad idea, therefore he settled on a brisk walk which buffeted the snow around him, cutting a ragged path through the snow which at least would show where he was going in the minuscule chance that anyone found his tracks. The flakes, once falling softly in small flurries, now cascaded around him, and he wished it wouldn't because it was becoming incredibly hard to see anything in front of him and he did not want even the slightest chance of missing the dark shape of Arthur. He had so far been trying to keep track of where he was going so that he would be able to navigate his way back to G-ERTI, although he knew that with every step he took that this was becoming a less likely option; he had enough energy to go and search for Arthur, but he wasn't so sure about the way back. Maybe…maybe finding him would be enough. It didn't really matter if they couldn't get back to the aeroplane. At least Arthur would not be wandering alone anymore. 

But he had been walking for ages now, and there had been no sign of Arthur. He was fairly sure he was following his tracks, but the fast falling snow lay thick on the ground and he just couldn't be certain. If he came this far only to never find Arthur again, then he thought he might just crawl on the floor and give up, just accept the coolness and loneliness. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, after all the snow was bound to make him feel numb, and it was glittering and maybe- wait. Glittering? He moved over swiftly to the item on the floor that had caught his eye, and his heart nearly stopped. It was a button. A button which he knew was from Arthur's coat.

The ground around it was messy and the snow was disturbed; it was obvious that Arthur had fallen over and scrambled across the snow, losing this button in the process. It was not much, but he knew with a hopeful clarity that he was on the right track, and as the snow had barely covered the lumps Arthur had disturbed, he could see that Arthur couldn't be too far away now. He didn't know if he was in shouting distance, but it seemed the most logical thing to do. Without even caring that it was an unnecessary thing to do, he placed the button in his pocket and his hand brushed against the little silver dog, which he gripped onto like a lifeline. He drew the air into his lungs, preparing himself for the loudest shout he had ever attempted.

"ARTHUR? ARTHUR WHERE ARE YOU?"

There was no answer, but he hadn't expected any. Unperturbed, he dashed through the snow and screamed until his voice was hoarse, clutching the dog tightly in his hand until it pressed deeply into his skin. He ran, he ran so fast, all the while with the sounds of the blood pumping in his ears mingling with the cacophony of his shouts. Arthur's name, even it's two syllables were becoming too much for his haggard voice, he needed something easier to shout that Arthur might respond to, something he could bellow with a velocity that could carry on the wind. He shouted the first word that came into his head.

"FIZZ! FIZZ!" 

 

 

Arthur was lagging, could feel his limbs being overtaken by the cold; he felt that he couldn't walk another step. The pain from his hands and utter desperation were combining to create a sort of delirium, and he wanted nothing more than to lie on the ground, forget everything and pretend that he was back in Fitton, safe and sound and away from this horrible nightmare. He thought he could handle being alone, but now he wanted more than anything in the world to see his Mum, to see Douglas, to apologise to Skip. Anything other than to be lost and to die alone. The only sound he had been able to hear was the howl of the wind as it carried the flakes of snow that assaulted his body, and the further he mover the louder it seemed to screech. In fact, it almost seemed to be taking on a voice, cruelly mimicking the voice of dear Skip and he tried to cover his ears to prevent this cruel trick.

"Stop, please stop!"

He loved Martin's voice, would have done anything to hear it once more, but he couldn't bear this hallucinatory shouting that taunted him. He thought he had heard his name, had no idea how the howling of the wind could sound like 'Arthur', but this dismal landscape seemed to be doing its utmost to frighten and unnerve him. There seemed to be a brief pause as the wind ceased its cruel mimicry, and Arthur stumbled, knowing that very soon he would be able to walk no more. And that is when he heard it; utterly ridiculous, but a command that even in his state he could not refuse.

"Fizz!"

It was easy to think that the wind would blow a harsh chorus of "Arthur" towards his ears, but how could the wind possibly know a secret such as that? He didn't dare hope; he had no hope left. He moistened his frozen lips and tried his very best to shout.

"Buzz!" 

 

Martin almost missed it, almost convinced himself he had been hearing only what he wanted to hear most in the world, but he was sure that he had heard a tiny 'buzz' in the distance. He crashed through the snow with a heroic burst of speed, throwing all of his energy into the shout.

"Fizz!"

It was not a mirage, that voice could never be a pretense and the swirling mess of Arthur's thoughts changed rapidly from confusion to a kind of wild joy. Arthur in his suddenly shocked happiness could only manage a small retaliatory,

"Buzz."

As this softly spoken word drifted toward him, Martin saw him, the only dark shape in this hellish white, and any word he wanted to shout died in his throat as he drew nearer and saw Arthur's frightened face transform into one of complete and heartbreaking delight. He did not care that Arthur had left, had said cruel words, he had found him, and only this utterly ridiculous, mad man in front of him mattered. Martin crashed into Arthur, wrapping his arms around him so tightly as if to anchor the steward to him forever, and pressed his face onto Arthur's chest, sobbing and sobbing. Arthur held onto Martin just as tightly, and if anyone had been there to see them they would have wondered at the tiny smile on his face. He wasn't smiling because he was happy, he was smiling because any doubts or fears he'd had about Martin had been erased; he did not need a large smile because all the happiness he had ever felt was contained in the small man that he now held. They had so far exchanged no more words, for each felt the wordless forgiveness flowing through their touch, the wordless "I'm sorry." that hovered in the air between them. Arthur gently lifted Martin's head from his chest and gazed into his icy eyes, light in this pure landscape. 

"You came to find me."

"Of course I did. 

Although Arthur knew that Martin had felt his apology, he had to say it, to try and mend what he had done. He knew that there was no chance they could make it back to G-ERTI now.

"Oh Skip, I'm so, so _so_ sorr-"

His voice was cut off as Martin stood on his tiptoes in order to press his plump lips to Arthur's to cut off his needless apology. As Martin's beautiful, chapped lips moved over his own, Arthur felt he hardly deserved it. They both felt absolutely exhausted after their desperate foray outside, and although Arthur was still holding onto Martin's face with a strength that defied his weakening body, they both sunk to the ground, lips still firmly together. When they broke apart, they were sat on the snow ridden floor, neither caring or noticing the coldness seeping into their clothes.

"You still want to-?"

Arthur had wondered if Martin still had feelings for him, as he had looked at him with such anger at their confrontation inside G-ERTI. Of course, this kiss had shown that his feelings had not changed, but Arthur wondered if he was just trying to make him feel better. 

"I came back." Martin spoke simply, but Arthur understood. Martin had left the relative safety of the plane to go on a suicidal search for Arthur; he still cared for him. Feeling filled with a sudden lightness, Arthur drew Martin onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him to keep him secure. But, Martin moved so that instead of his back being against Arthur's front, he was sat on Arthur's lap facing him. It was comfortable enough, and Arthur appreciated that now he would be able to look at Martin's face for as long as he wanted. Martin looked at Arthur very seriously as if preparing him for the terrible thing he was about to say next.

"You do realise…we can't go back now, right?"

Arthur knew, and he was surprised to feel no fear.

"Yes. But it doesn't matter."

To anyone else, this would have seemed an odd statement to make, as by staying here they were basically accepting death with open arms. But Martin peered at him carefully, almost as if assessing him.

"No. It doesn't."

And, despite his fears, he did truly feel that it did not matter. To be sat here with Arthur, together, was all that mattered, and he was happy. 

 

***

 

The snow had covered any tracks that Martin and Arthur had made when they ran away from G-ERTI, but Carolyn was adamant that they would have followed in her and Douglas's original direction in the east. The other members of the search party obviously thought it was doubtful that they were ever going to find the other two alive, but they tactfully did not mention this as Ms. Babikova gave them a stern look. They uttered any misgivings they might have had in Russian, and only Douglas caught a hint of their sombre tones; he tried his best to ignore them. They had contacted the other truck which had been following behind them which was lagging slightly to inform them that they were heading onwards past the aeroplane, as it was obvious that they were going to need medical help now they knew that the others had wandered into the snowstorm. 

Despite Martin's note, Carolyn was finding it difficult not to feel a slight anger towards Arthur. Why on Earth had he left G-ERTI? She was sure that he of all people would stay doggedly loyal to the aeroplane, and she could not fathom why he might have chosen to go. Without Martin too, which confused her, as she knew how much he looked up to Martin. God knew why, as Martin was just as ridiculous as Arthur, and she couldn't imagine them having a fight. But, overriding her anger, she could only feel a despairing worry and she would have traded anything in the world for Arthur to be the one who was safe rather than her. She might complain constantly about what a burden Arthur was to her, but he was _her_ Arthur, her little Arthur, perhaps not so little now but still the only person she would admit to caring for. Herc could see her anguish clearly, and he did not know what he could say as he felt it too. Herc cared for Arthur too as he knew when he got involved with Carolyn that he had to make sure that he made an attempt to get on with her son; luckily for him, it was extremely easy to let Arthur into your heart. He didn't think Carolyn would ever get over Arthur dying, and he couldn't blame her- they had lived together for so long, and he knew how empty her house would be without Arthur filling it up with the brightness only he could muster. Even though he loved Carolyn, he didn't think he would be a replacement for that brightness, though of course he would be there to comfort her…just in case. 

Douglas wondered about the note, as he knew Martin's stubbornness well and would have thought that if Arthur would have left the plane, then Martin would feel that it was his duty to stay and that he would feel that it wasn't his job to go after Arthur. It was odd that he should go after Arthur, as even if Arthur had decided to leave then it would have been a wise course of action to stay on the plane and wait for help. Then again, Martin didn't know that help was coming. It must have been terrible indeed on the plane if both of them had been forced to leave, and the red first aid kit twinkled ominously in his mind, abandoned in the aeroplane but ever present. He peered over at Herc and Carolyn, who both of whom were lost in their own personal sadness, and his mind was gripped with a fierce determinedness.  _I am going to find them,_ he thought, _blast it, if it's the last thing I'll do, I'm going to find them._ His mind, always whirring with endless schemes and ideas, worked furiously for Arthur and Martin.When they got back in the truck, he decided to reveal his plan.

"Everyone, it's obvious that Martin and Arthur took off from here only hours ago. It will be difficult to find them in the truck, therefore I propose that you drive us for about half and hour then allow me to leave and search myself."

His voice was bold, but Carolyn's was full of shock.

"Douglas, we'll lose you too! This is madness-"

"No, I think he is right." It was Ms. Babikova who had spoken. All eyes turned to her.

"It would be foolish to remain in the car when we know they travelled on foot, and we will be able to find anyone who leaves. Sergei, give me one of your walkie talkies."

"But, but-"

"I know you have more than one, we will be needing it. Thank you."

He reluctantly handed over the device, and she pressed it into Douglas's hands without further ado; he received it gratefully.

"Thank you. Are you certain this will work?"

"Positive. Now, even if you get lost we will be able to talk to you."

Douglas was glad that this important lady was on his side, as Carolyn and Herc still looked rather unsure about his suggestion. He wouldn't blame them at all if they wanted to stay in the truck while he searched; it would be stupid if they all left and got lost again. But Carolyn knew that she couldn't stay in the car knowing that Douglas might stumble across the others and need help.

"I'm coming too."

Herc let out a gasp, and she expected Douglas to refuse, to tell her it was a stupid idea. But, he merely nodded.

"Yes, I rather thought you might."

"Not going to stop me? Tell me it's too dangerous for a little old lady?"

"Carolyn, if anything this trip has established it's that you are _not_ a little old lady. Little old ladies don't walk away from a fall like you did as if it was a little tumble on a carpet."

Herc started at the sound of Carolyn's fall, as she hadn't got round to telling him yet why she had a cut on her head, and she resolved to tell him the whole story later. Her and Douglas had reached a kind of stalemate, knowing that they were going to each do their very best in their search. Herc watched them, and knew even though Martin and Arthur were god knows where, that they couldn't have two more vigorous or caring people looking for them. 

 

 

***

 

Maybe it was a very defeatist thing to do, to sit down on the snow and allow it to accumulate around them, but Martin and Arthur had both accepted their fate however begrudgingly they did so. They were so thoroughly exhausted that the idea of doing something as simple as standing up required an an amount of energy that they just didn't have left. Somehow though, being outside didn't feel nearly as hopeless as it had been when they were trapped inside the aeroplane; G-ERTI exerted isolation and a failed promise, but the surrounding white was tranquil. It wasn't such a bad way to go, to succumb to the creeping cold in the arms of the one you loved, so very different to that brief time only days ago where they thought they were going to die in a painful and frightening crash. They didn't say anything for a while, as no words could soften this situation, but by being silent they fell prey to their thoughts. Martin was internally reflecting that at least no one would miss him much, when he registered that the shaking of Arthur's body wasn't to do with the cold. He drew his eyes from staring past Arthur into the distance and towards his face, noticing that his eyes were screwed up, trying in vain to stop the tears from flowing down his face.

"Oh, Arthur. What's wrong?"

What a foolish question, _everything_ was wrong, but Arthur had only been melancholy so far and this crying surprised him. Arthur's eyes opened, shining with tears and hopelessly sad.

"I-I want Mum, Skip. I want her so, so much."

It was like the pleading of a small child, and it cut right into the centre of Martin's heart. When he had begun to accept his fate, he also felt the sudden sorrow at not being able to contact his mum this last time, and he remembered how in the plane Arthur had told him he couldn't leave Carolyn. Hell, _he_ missed Carolyn, and Douglas, and he felt ashamed that at their parting he hadn't told them just how much they meant to him. They hadn't known that when they saw each other at the parting it would be for the last time, but Martin cursed his lack of sentimentality. Martin did not know what to do; he could not bring Carolyn to Arthur.

"I know. I know."

He could only hold Arthur tightly and press their foreheads together, hoping that he was imbuing Arthur with at least some of his strength. Arthur didn't want to cry, he wanted to be strong enough for him and Skip, but he had so wanted to find his Mum. He hardly ever told her he loved her, though the words were always on the tip of his tongue, in the forefront of his mind, because Carolyn felt uncomfortable with such sentiments. It seemed silly, but although she never really said the words he knew that she loved him because sometimes when she thought he wasn't looking he saw a soft expression on her face, almost fondness, and Carolyn never looked at anyone in fondness. With Martin's sweet touch, he started to accept that he would never see her again though the thought burned like poison in his veins. He missed Douglas also, as he knew that despite his slyness and affected superiority Douglas counted him and Martin amongst his friends, and Douglas didn't really have that many friends. Arthur thought even of Herc in his sadness, as he loved Herc for treating his Mum better than any other man had done in his life. He had hoped that Herc would become a substitute for his father, making up for all of those lost years with no father present, but he was at least glad that his mum wouldn't be alone. 

Eventually, Arthur stopped crying, but his mind was just filled with a horrible hollowness that overtook his sadness; this replacement was unwelcome but numbing. Martin wished he could say something wise, something meaningful that would bring them both peace, but he was Martin Crieff and his natural anxiety made it difficult to focus. The silence at first had been soothing, but soon Arthur stared to find it unbearable. To be silent seemed to be allowing the situation to happen, and Arthur was sick of the tranquility. Arthur brought his forehead away from Martin's and looked down at him, his voice cracking in pure unadulterated desperation.

"Martin, talk to me about something, _anything_ , please."

Martin shivered as his name was spoken by Arthur, he still couldn't get used to it.

"I don't know what to think when you call me Martin."

"Oh no, I'm sorry-"

"No, I like it. what did you want me to talk about?"

"Please, just anything other than…this. Would you talk to me about flying?"

Arthur wasn't sure why he asked it. He discovered that he had missed flying more than he had realised, missed being the cheery steward happy to do his job serving other people, watching the majestic pilots from afar. He missed being on G-ERTI, and he could see that as Martin's eyes had softened with longing at his words that he had missed it just as much if not more.

"Flying?"

"I want you to talk to me about it, you don't understand, when you fly you're so free, you're so-"

His words were tumbling over each other, stumbling out of his mouth from his delirious mind. His voice trailed off and Martin gripped him tighter than he had ever gripped anything in his life. He had wanted to say something meaningful, and he knew that to him flying was one of the only things in his life that had ever had any meaning. He gathered his thoughts and spoke in a slow, reassuring voice. 

"Well, flying to me is a bit like like… putting on a pair of shoes. Sometimes you struggle and people tell you they're the wrong ones but well, you have faith. You want the shoes, they looked nice, you want to wear them, to show everyone and to prove yourself. Then people laugh tell you it's the wrong dream…I mean pair of shoes, but you ignore them. And the shoes might hurt a bit but, by god," Martin's eyes were wide.

"By god they're worth it."

Arthur seemed to absorb the words, to draw them into himself and drink in their heartfelt meaning. To talk was to drive away the fear of the situation, and Martin's words contained a beauty that battled this fear, was the only thing that could bring peace into Arthur's roiling mind. Martin saw the flush of pleasure that Arthur's face had taken on at his words, and he felt glad, especially when Arthur spoke and his words were light rather than hopeless. 

"Is G-ERTI like a nice old boot?"

"Yes, the nicest. Patched up and well worn, but you still love it."

Arthur gave him a little smile then, and it was a lovely little thing that contrasted with the now frozen tear tracks on his face. A stray snowflake landed on his upturned nose, and Martin couldn't resist giving him a little kiss to get it off. Arthur squirmed as he did so, his voice breathless. 

"Please, carry on talking."

Martin licked his chapped lips and considered what he should talk about next. His mind was blank, and filled only with confessions when he tried to think of something to say. But he latched onto one that he thought Arthur should knows, something that would make his conscience feel much clearer in these last few moments.

"Well, I'm going to tell you something truthful now, Arthur, and I don't want you to feel sad about it, I just feel…I feel you deserve to know."

"…Right."

"When I first started working for your Mum, well to be honest I only thought it would be a temporary arrangement. You know, get some proper experience under my belt, move on to a new airline and work my way up. Gosh, that sounds terrible doesn't it?"

Arthur didn't answer because he didn't want to hurt Martin's feelings; yes, the thought of Martin using MJN as a mere stepping stone hurt, but he could hardly blamed him. Unperturbed, Martin continued.

"If you can remember, I did go for an EasyJet interview, and of course I got rejected. I was really angry at the time- I had experience, I was much better! But you know what? I think that was one of the best things that happened to me."

"What, really? But Skip, you must have wanted it!"

"Oh I did, Arthur. But you know, after I got rejected it got me thinking. In the interview I was surrounded by all of these other pilots, so professional and serious and intimidating. And when I came back and Carolyn was annoyed at me and Douglas teased me and you were…well, _you_ , I realised something."

He paused, remembering well his anger at the rejection letter, another one to add to his amounting collection, then remembered how when he had returned to G-ERTI how everyone had reacted to his failure with their usual teasing and short words; despite this affected normality, he could detect a relief in each of their faces, try as they might to hide it.

"I realised that if I left, I would probably never have what we all have. The other pilots would have made mincemeat out of me, and I think I might have been secretly glad at returning to you all. Sure, we argue and fight and get into such _ridiculous_ situations, but if I went to join another airline I think…I think I would be angry at myself for throwing away what we have at MJN."

"And…what is it we have at MJN?"

"A family, Arthur. Somewhere to call home." 

And it was true. Martin could have applied for more jobs, he was much wiser than he had been at that interview, but he had held back. Some people, probably Carolyn, could call it laziness or lack of ambition, but Martin had another word for it; love. Arthur could feel it, and Martin's words caused such a stirring inside of him that he couldn't help the hopeless words from spilling out, the ones he feared because he was saying them far too late.

"Martin, I love you."

Who knew that words could be full of electricity, of fire? For the first, and very probably the last, time Martin felt filled with a true heat of love, something which the snow could not take away, something which would never ever leave him. He wished it had not taken the threat of death for Arthur to admit this to him, he wished it could have happened lazily, perhaps in the flight deck with the sun glittering on Arthur's infinite smile. Arthur had never known words to have so much power, but he practically felt Martin drink in the words, to turn them over in his head. It was rather forward of him, and he hoped that Martin didn't think he was moving too fast. But Martin offered him a smile, a truly wonderful smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and transformed his usually worried face into a mask of happiness. It was a lovely smile because it was entirely truthful; it was a smile worthy of Arthur.

"I love you too, Arthur. I wish I had told you sooner."

Arthur wished it too, but what use were wishes against the deathly cold? He rested his head on Martin's shoulder and together they waited, patiently now, but almost content. 

 

 

***

 

The car drew to a slow halt in the snow, and Ms. Babikova looked carefully at the three tense people sat around her. She could sense their utter desperation and understood completely, but she hoped they would not eschew reason for panic.

"We will leave you here- we will carry on in the truck and see if we can find them. If we cannot, then I shall ring you up on the walkie talkie and collect you. Do you understand?"

They all nodded solemnly, and happy enough with this, she watched as they filed out of the car and wasted no time in running ahead. When Herc left with them, Carolyn opened her mouth as if to say something, but any words were quelled by the look on his face. They were in it together, and no force on earth was going to prevent Herc from looking for Arthur and Martin. They had been looking out for any signs of their tracks in the mostly untouched snow but it had been very difficult from the truck window as it wasn't easy to see the ground; now they were there, however, Douglas pointed excitedly at what looked to be footprints that were half covered by snow. 

"It has to be them, it has to be! Come on, we need to go!"

 

He sped off, half following instinct and half following evidence, and Carolyn and Herc hurried after him. For a long while the only sound they could hear was the frantic slap of their footprints on the ground and the sounds of their haggard breath. 

 

***

 

A delicious kind of numbness was settling over Arthur's limbs, which came as a pleasant surprise as he had always thought that death would be unbearably painful. He couldn't even feel his hands, and he knew this should make him feel more worried than he was. It was all right, really, being here with Skip, as calm and peaceful as you could hope. Would he rather die later in a fiery crash of destruction? Or feel the pain and indignity of dying on a hospital bed? Arthur's life had been a happy one, had become happier than he ever could have possibly imagined in these last few days and he only had one regret; he dearly wanted Martin to get out of this alive. He was willing to die a thousand times over so that Martin would be safe in Fitton, find a new love, have a family, and he did not mourn for his lost future but for Martin's. Martin could tell that Arthur was slipping and slipping away, hell he felt exactly the same, and he had already decided that if Arthur was gone then there was no way he was going to live in a world without Arthur. For a world without Arthur would be infinitely colder than this dismal place, and Martin wanted absolutely no part in it. Arthur's face was so pale, and Martin could tell he was trying to talk, to force some air into his frozen lungs. He put his ear next to Arthur's mouth and heard him whisper.

"Skip…Martin…I feel like…like I want to sleep."

He couldn't see any point in trying to stop him, even though he knew what letting Arthur sleep would do. He was trying so hard not to cry, as he didn't want Arthur to feel any fear. He would feel fear until the very end, but he wanted Arthur to be calm and lovely as always, and he would bear that burden gladly. After a few moments he spoke in a voice which was so calm that it surprised him.

"Yes, go to sleep Arthur. I'll be…here when you wake up."

Arthur tried to smile then, to coax his icy lips into some semblance of a smile, and he almost did it. Martin treasured it, and Arthur slumped so that his head was on Martin's shoulder. Martin realised that he didn't want it end like this, it couldn't end like this, and he leaned his face so it was resting on Arthur's head.

 

"Arthur Shappey."

 

Martin's lips were so cold, he could barely move them to talk, and he felt Arthur shift his head almost imperceptibly and knew he was listening. Martin felt he had to say this, needed to say something that would convey to Arthur even an iota of what he felt. He thought about their time together, the hollow years before MJN, the promise that their kiss had brought crumbling to dust. 

"I'm glad I didn't die before I met you." 

 

And, he didn't know how, he felt Arthur's smile, felt it radiate through him and casting a light deep in the dark of his mind. 

 

 

***

 

 

It was Douglas who found them. Carolyn and Herc hadn't meant to lag behind, but they had thought they had seen Martin and Arthur's shape on the snow; this had turned out to be a rock. Douglas had ignored their detour and had ploughed steadily ahead, as the footsteps they had been following had become clearer and clearer on the ground as they progressed. And, as he had ran he saw in the distance the definite huddled shape of people, and he forgot the stitch in his side, forgot his breath clawing its way through his lungs. He shouted, an enormous boom that he knew had carried towards Carolyn and Herc.

"I've found them! They're here!" 

They were holding onto each other, why were they holding onto each other? Oh, but that would be the warmest thing to do. But this looked too intimate to be an embrace of convenience, and Douglas's heart threatened to shatter at the protective arms Martin had clasped around Arthur. He heard the desperate patter of feet behind him, and heard Carolyn moan at the two unmoving figures in front of them.

'Douglas…they're… _oh_ -"

Douglas had moved over to the bodies on the floor and was frantically brushing the snow from their faces, noting the blue tone of their lips and rigid limbs, and trying to summon any medical knowledge still clattering round in his brain. This was all done with the backdrop of a sobbing Carolyn, whom Herc was holding onto with a dead look in his eyes.

"I was too late! Oh Herc, my little Arthur…and Martin. What will I tell his mother?"

She carried on sobbing as Herc put his arms around her, knowing they were no protection from her anguish. Herc looked at Douglas, dreading the words, the words they had all dreaded were coming, and Douglas looked him dead in the eyes knew that the words he was going to say would change everything.

"They're alive." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if you were expecting that? There were a couple of, let's say, alternative outcomes, but I settled on that one. I hope you aren't too upset, and it's not quite over yet!


	13. The Earth is shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite strange really, in my original plan I sort of intended to end around last chapter, but now it's come to it I think there's just a little more to settle. This is probably going to be the second to last chapter, though I know my rambling writing so you never know. 
> 
> As ever, thank you for all the kudos, comments and reading of this story, it's very much appreciated. :)

 

At first there was heat.

 

It engulfed his body, caressed his skin, and soothed his mind against the horrible nightmare that the cold had been. It was such an alien feeling, the warmth, that Martin felt quite overwhelmed and more than a little afraid. He always imagined that death would be a cold, heartless sort of thing, but he basked in this unexpected feeling; if this was death then it wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought. The next thing he registered was the light, a harsh whiteness that pressed against his eyes making him wince and wonder how he could still be feeling pain; surely there would be no pain after death? Then, slowly, slowly, the white arranged itself into the semblance of a room, a small, dull little room; a hospital room. 

 

Panic descended on him, flurries of it overtaking his brain. The hospital? But, he had been in the snow protecting Arthur! His mind could not fathom how he had managed to get from the hopeless situation outside to in this normal little room, and it frightened him. He tried to sit up and struggled to lift his battered and weak body, and he heard a loud gasp coming from somewhere next to him.

"Martin, you're awake!"

 

Hardly daring to hope as he recognised that familiar voice, he tried to speak but his mouth was too dry and he could only manage a pathetic kind of splutter. He tried to cough and soon forced out a hoarse sort of whisper as his eyes focused on Douglas and Carolyn who were sat next to him and looking as if they had seen a ghost.

"Ar…Ar…"

"Don't try and speak, Martin. You've been through an awful lot."

He was furious with his voice, he had to make them understand! Why was he being treated when Arthur, poor Arthur had been so ill and damaged? He screwed up his face and forced the word out, his sore throat burning in the process.

"Arthur."

They both looked absolutely awful. There were dark bags under each of their eyes, and he had never really thought of them as old, but their eyes seemed to be brimming with an age old sadness that usually accompanied loss and heartbreak, and his brain absolutely refused to understand what that must mean. Although he had only said one word, Martin had meant it as a question, and he knew that they understood this perfectly. However, he could see them look at each other and clearly pretend that they hadn't heard the question. Douglas leaned closer, an unexpectedly fatherly look overtaking his face.

"How are you feeling Martin?"

He was not going to be fooled into this, into a pretty little facade where he had to play the well behaved patient, to sit down like a good boy and pretend he didn't have any questions when he felt like his head was near to exploding with anticipation. He wanted to know what was going on, and it only infuriated him more to see their reluctance to tell him and he couldn't fathom why they didn't want to let him know what was happening. Surely they could see how much it was tearing him apart not to know about what had had happened to Arthur? He was right; Carolyn and Douglas could see a desperate need for information etched on his face, knew that not telling him would cause more damage than good, but he was just so weak and frail and they did not want him to lapse into despair when he had been so close to death. But, despite appearances, Martin's voice contained a rumbling anger that only intensified the more he tried to speak.

"I…want… _Arthur_."

He saw Carolyn's lip tremble and noticed her unusually red eyes; these were signs of weaknesses he had never _ever_ seen in her before, and it was this that caused a slight sense of hysteria to enter his mind and combine horribly with his anger, making his fury double. Douglas's eyes seemed to flicker towards Carolyn as if seeking permission to speak, and when he did his voice was unnaturally calm and delicate, as if about to impart some terrible and important news to a small child.

"Martin, Arthur isn't…he's not…"

Douglas had the words prepared in his head and thought that he could deliver them with confidence, but seeing Martin trembling with what could only be a dreaded expectation had forced his words to come out faltering and unsure. This had been a terrible mistake, as Martin had picked up on the hesitancy on his voice as if it had whipped him across the face.

"No…NO!"

Douglas leapt up as Martin tried to escape from the bed, thrashing around and trying to escape these words, these awful and murderous words.

"Martin, you need to calm down."

"Oh god, _Arthur_ …no, no, NO!"

"Martin-"

Carolyn was on her feet now, and they were both trying to grip his arms tightly as he waged an almighty struggle on the bed, his voice screaming so loud that he knew everyone in the hospital could probably hear his yells, but he did not care. He rounded on Douglas, his face mottled red and eyes almost popping, and every word he spoke emerged from his throat in a gasping, hopeless moan.

"Why did you save _me_?"

The words cut through Douglas as if laced in poison, and it hurt to know that Martin thought he wasn't worth saving. He had never seen Martin act like this before, to completely lose control, and he knew that if they didn't calm him down then Martin would attract doctors who would do it for them, and he needed Martin to listen.

"Martin, Arthur is-"

"I don't want to live, I wanted to die out there with him. WHY DID YOU SAVE ME?"

The last words were such an inhumane shriek that Carolyn and Douglas almost lost their grip on Martin due to the shock of it, but they quickly came to their senses.There was nothing for it, Martin was determined to shut his ears and spat his heartbreaking words like molten lead, and Douglas knew he was going to have to somehow knock some sense into him; they were past being gentle. Despite the fact that Martin still looked so weak in his hospital clothes and surrounded by machinery, Douglas gripped the front of his gown and growled at him.

"Martin, ARTHUR. IS. ALIVE." 

For Martin, the world had stopped. He couldn't believe the words Douglas had spoken, how dare he lie to him about something like that? It was indecent, it was cruel it was- he looked into Douglas's eyes, still aflame with his fury but boring into Martin's as if trying to make him understand. It was true. As he processed this, Martin felt his body sag and he could tell that the other two were sighing with relief as all the fight left him, leaving him with a very small voice.

"But…why didn't you say?"

If Carolyn had been in her normal mood, she would have rolled her eyes, but as it was she could only sigh in despair.

"You didn't give us a chance!"

Martin was utterly confused, and ran the words they had spoken over in his head.

"But, you started to say-"

"We were trying to say he's not _here_. He's in another room, they are…they are trying to make sure he doesn't-" 

Carolyn's words faltered, and he could see her chest heaving with the effort she was putting in to not cry in front of him. He wished she wouldn't as the effort was clearly taking a toll on her, but Douglas knew that they had to let Carolyn try and deal with this situation in the only way she could otherwise there could only be resentment. There was a creak as the door of the room opened, and a harassed looking doctor entered, surveying the odd scene of Carolyn and Douglas still gripping the arms of Martin with utmost bewilderment.

"I heard shouting…is, er, everything ok?"

"I want to see Arthur."

Martin had spoken before the other to could get a word in, and the doctor looked incredulously at him.

"You, Sir, will not be leaving that bed until I am wholly satisfied you can-"

"I _need_ to see him."

Martin's loyalty would have been touching, but he could not see himself. Still deathly pale, his already sharp cheekbones sunken and giving him a gaunt, ghostly appearance; he looked awful. He did not yet know how close he had been to death, and it would do no good until he understood. Douglas spoke softly.

"Martin, look at your arm."

It seemed such an odd request that Martin did it, and he was shocked to see that he had an IV needle in his arm connected up to a drip; he honestly hadn't noticed and it was lucky that he hadn't ripped it out in his thrashing. The seriousness of needing a drip attached made him realise that leaving the bed would probably be a catastrophic idea right now, but it was still with utmost reluctance that he remained. He was aware of how hot the room was and realised that it was probably only this room that was keeping him alive. As he absorbed this, the doctor turned to Carolyn.

"Ms. Knapp-Shappey, may I have you for a moment? There are some things we need to discuss." 

She did not want to go with this man, she so utterly did not. She did not want to be told by a complete stranger that her son was beyond help, could not be saved. They had assured her that they would do all they could to save him, but the only thing that had burned in her mind over these last hours was his poor hands, his poor frost ridden hands and his death mask of a face. She would have given anything for one of his smiles. But she had a duty, and she was glad she had been there for Martin's waking up as she had wanted to make sure that he was ok and she could now leave content. 

"I will come. Martin-"

"But, but I need to know! I _need_ to come-"

He was still determined to go, to hell with all of this, and Carolyn was beginning to feel very annoyed; he would cause too much damage to himself if he carried on like this.

"Martin, sit down you fool. I will come back and tell you-"

"But I need to know- I was there with him, I know how much he was suffering, I, I-"

He wanted to say "I love him." but the fateful words would not come. Carolyn was exasperated, and perhaps if Martin had explained his love then she would have been more tolerant, but she was feeling annoyed that he seemed to have forgotten that she cared just as much as him. 

"I know you were there Martin, but you are not the only one who cares about Arthur-"

"At least I didn't leave him."

He said the words before he could stop himself, and the temperature seemed to drop perceptibly as the doctor and Douglas saw Carolyn's expression become shocked, then darken ominously. Douglas saw her tremble, could sense that anger was roiling inside of her like thunderclouds and he inwardly cringed at Martin's nasty words. She spat the words, her voice shaking.

"How _dare you_ , Martin. How _dare_ you."

Martin could actually see tears shining in her eyes, and suddenly felt absolutely ashamed that he had been the one to put them there. How could he have said something so harsh, so uncaring? His words stumbled out in his haste to mend what he had done.

"Carolyn, I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"Don't you dare speak to me, Martin."

"I'm-"

But she got up and marched off with out another word and slammed the door, making it rattle on its hinges. The doctor mumbled an excuse and followed after her, looking rather afraid. Douglas settled himself on the chair next to Martin, rubbing his face tiredly and sighing, noticing well Martin's both shocked and abashed expression.

 

"You shouldn't be so hard on her." He said quietly. 

Martin had expected Douglas to be annoyed with him, but this quiet disappointment was infinitely worse and it made him feel even more ashamed with himself. He began weakly to protest, but Douglas carried on regardless.

"She carried Arthur, you know."

"What, Carolyn?"

He knew that Carolyn was a strong lady, goodness knows he did not need to be reminded, but he hadn't thought that she would have been able to carry tall and definitely not very light Arthur. Douglas carried on, his voice still quite quiet.

"Yes, Herc was obviously going to try and I already had you, but Carolyn just lifted him off the floor and said that if anyone tried to stop her then there really would be dead people around." 

And he remembered her clearly, her fiercely loving glare threatening anyone who was going to challenge her from picking up her own son, and Douglas had been surprised that the snow hadn't just melted around them from the pure ferociousness of her gaze. Martin supposed that love and panic often did strange things to people, hell he and Arthur had only found the strength to carry on through each other.

"Herc? He's here?"

Douglas frowned at this question, then realisation quickly dawned. Of course, Martin wouldn't have known that Herc had been looking for them as he hadn't been able to make any contact with the grounded aeroplane.

"Yes, he tracked us down and flew all the way here to find us. Quite the hero, actually. He's sorting out some paperwork for us at the moment."

Martin was surprised to detect a slight hint of bitterness in Douglas's voice.

"Douglas? I'm sure you did all you could to help."

There was a harsh laugh.

"I wasn't quick enough though, was I? And if it wasn't for Herc we would probably still be stuck in that godforsaken cabin, and you and Arthur would be…would be…"

His voice faltered, and he turned his head to the door as if ashamed. Martin tried to lean up and catch his eye, trying to imbue his voice with the true feelings he felt, which he knew he needed to tell to the sad man in front of him.

"Douglas, thank you. You said you carried me, and I know you helped us all to stay sane; I'm so glad to see you. We thought…we though we were never going to see you two again." 

And this made Douglas wonder what horrors Martin and Arthur had faced when staying with G-ERTI, and this only served to double his guilt that he and Carolyn had been relatively comfortable inside the cabin. They obviously had not had the chance to ask either Martin or Arthur, as both had been unconscious, but hundreds of questions had burnt in their minds, the most prominent being why Arthur had left Martin. Douglas had wanted to ask Martin as soon as he woke up, but he wasn't sure how to go about interrogating this broken looking man. Martin was finding it very difficult to adjust to being in the hospital bed, to being around heat. He had been so far removed from comfort these last days that he was finding it all rather extraordinary. The softness of the bed, the clean quality of his clothes seemed intensified, and he also eagerly drank in the sad and tired face of Douglas, whom he had never even expected to see again. He still had questions about Arthur.

"Was he bad…when you brought him in?"

"You can't imagine…no, I'm being moronic, of course you can. Martin, we thought you were dead. Both of you; you were so _cold_ when we found you."

"But, but we must have been ok because I'm awake and Arthur isn't dead!"

"You both had hypothermia, any fool could have seen that. You wouldn't wake, and we had to wait for the blasted trucks to return in the cold with nothing to help you with other than our own clothes which was hardly enough for us let alone you two. Thankfully, the snow had eased off a bit and after we had driven for a little while we saw that someone had wangled a helicopter which is probably what saved you both. We almost couldn't separate you; you were practically frozen to each other."

Martin had been listening horrorstruck to Douglas's words, then felt a blush creeping on at his last words. He tried to brush away this ridiculous embarrassment as he realised what Douglas had said. 

"Hypothermia?"

"Yes, that's why you're so weak. I'm quite surprised you are talking now really, it's only been a day since we brought you in."

"A day?!"

"Yes, and they still won't let us see Arthur. All that we know is that…they've had to perform CPR."

 Douglas didn't mention that he very well suspected the reason why the doctor had taken Carolyn away to talk with her, but he couldn't bring himself to inform Martin of this. His mind and his heart were filled to the brim with the everlasting image of Arthur and Martin who when they were separated, even though they were delirious and could not even open their eyes, had each reached their hands out to find the other when they were taken away from each other. This, albeit small, sign of life had given them a tiny spark of hope, and Douglas had been mildly confused because it spoke only of love. He wondered what could have happened in those days they were separated. His mind caught on the image of Arthur's damaged hands, and it made his throat catch.

"His _hands_ , Martin, what happened to them?"

Hot guilt erupted in Martin's stomach; it was all his fault and he almost didn't want to let Douglas know of his failure but he knew he must. He explained that unfortunate incident, and the utter horribleness of it rendered Douglas speechless.

"He was so frightened that I was going to be angry at him, you know because of St Petersburg. He was so frightened, Douglas. I don't want him to be frightened anymore." 

"We're just going to have to wait."

"I'm _sick_ of waiting. But I'll do it. I'll do anything for him."

The pure simplicity of this statement touched Douglas, and he remembered prising Martin's reluctant hands away from Arthur. 

"I know."

 

 

***

 

 

No, no, no. This was not happening. It could not be happening. 

 

The doctor was holding out the piece of paper, so innocent looking but containing such a horrible promise. She backed away from it as if it were a poisonous snake. 

"…Ms. Knapp-Shappey, be reasonable-"

"I am _not_ going to give you permission to cut off his hands. I will _never-"_

"Look, it probably isn't going to happen but we need to be sure just in case. We won't do it if you don't sign the paper but if it came to that and we couldn't do it he could die; do you want that to happen?"

"Of course not you idiot!"

She felt trapped, hopelessly trapped. Words like 'amputation' and 'hypothermia' and 'critical condition' had been thrown about much in the last few moments, and she wanted to cover her ears and ignore it all. The doctor knew how difficult this decision would be, it always went like this, but his heart had sunk as he saw how ferocious this woman was. He didn't think it likely that amputation would happen, but it was his duty to get this dratted form signed.

"I need you to tell me what you've decided."

She looked at him helplessly, hating the fact that she was so dependant on these strangers.

'I _can't._ I _can't_ do that. Please…" 

The doctor saw her desperation, perhaps it was too soon. 

"I'll give you a few hours to think about it. That's all I can offer."

"Thank you."

He had hardly gone round the corner when her tears began to fall. She had been constantly on the edge since she had arrived at this hospital, constantly on the verge of collapse but she had tried to stay strong for the others. Carolyn was not one to erupt into girlish tears, tears for her merited a serious situation; her first husband cheating on her, Gordon's cruelty, Arthur in danger. This was the most awful situation she had ever been in, and she could not hold back the barrage of tears that had lain beneath the surface for hours. She was right next to Martin's door now and had slid onto the floor, gasping and crying like she hadn't done for years. She knew she was making far too much noise, but she only cared about Arthur. When Carolyn momentarily stopped to gasp for breath, she heard a small voice float from inside Martin's room.

"Carolyn? Sorry, is there any chance you could just get something for me?"

Wondering if Martin had heard her sobs and hardly even caring that she was supposed to be annoyed with him, she straightened up and entered the room with her head bowed, hoping that the shadows would conceal her face and her tears.  When she entered she saw that Douglas wasn't there; he must have slipped out when she was having her talk with the doctor to go to the toilet or something. Martin, looking apologetic, pointed to a cabinet near him. 

"Sorry, could you get me that napkin?"

Wondering dully why he hadn't just done it himself, Carolyn fetched it and moved towards his bed to give it to him. To her utter surprise, Martin darted swiftly upwards and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. It was such an unexpected and absolutely unlike him thing to do that she was momentarily speechless.

"Martin, what on _earth_ do you think you are doing?"

His voice was rather muffled, and he clung on diligently. 

"I'm sorry, Carolyn. I-I wanted to thank you, so, so much. You deserve all of my thanks, each of you, but I wanted you to know. I'm sorry for the hug but, well, it's…it's the kind of thing Arthur would do, don't you think?"

If anyone else would have had the audacity to mention Arthur in her fragile state, Carolyn thought she might have struck them, but somehow, she felt Martin understood her feelings. It was very surreal to be in such close contact with him, but secretly she had been craving one of Arthur's sloppy hugs that he occasionally bestowed upon her unsuspecting person. Martin was very pointy, so it wasn't quite the same, but it was nice nonetheless. She knew now that Martin had definitely heard her crying, but somehow she felt that she didn't mind so much. She allowed herself to be held for a little longer, then the door opened and Douglas and Herc entered in on the scene, their eyebrows raised as Carolyn jumped away from Martin. 

"You saw nothing."

She could see Douglas mentally filing the scene in a file with the title 'things to definitely bring up in the future', but he graciously withheld any comment. Herc rushed over to Martin and squeezed his arm gently.

"Martin, you're awake!"

"Hello Herc. Douglas told me about how you helped to find us."

"Oh, did he? Did he say I was lazing around and just happened to stumble across you?"

"No, actually, he said you were a hero."

Herc looked absolutely delighted at this information, but before he could say anything Douglas coughed loudly.

"Never mind that, Herc said he had some questions for you. Go on then, you two have a chat."

While Martin and Herc talked, Douglas indicated to Carolyn that she should come with him into the corner of the room and she acquiesced, wondering what this could be about. They spoke in hushed voices so as to not attract the attention of the others.

"So, what did you tell the doctor? Did you say yes?"

This was not what Carolyn had expected him to say at all, and she found that she was more exasperated than annoyed.

"Were you listening in on us?"

"Of course not! But it's an easy leap to make, I know they would want to talk about…amputation."

"I said…I said no. Does that make me a terrible mother?"

Douglas thought about it for a moment, seriously turning over the question in his head and pondering about what he would do in that situation, if it was all up to him. He decided to be truthful because he knew that Carolyn did not want empty words, nor did she deserve them.

"No, it doesn't. It's a terrible decision to make. I don't think I could do it."

"He _will_ get better. He will."

But the ill face of Arthur loomed in their mind, and they rejoined the other two, both feeling rather dejected. 

 

 

They carried on talking for a while, everyone silently wondering at how calm Martin seemed considering he had been screeching like a harpy when he first woke up. Truth be told, Martin was just engaging in conversation to distract away from the reality of the situation, to prevent his mind from wondering uselessly about Arthur. He felt that at any moment his carefully manufactured control might collapse, and he was glad that their conversation had taken on a light hearted tone. It was all going so well, then Herc unknowingly made an accidental mistake.

"Oh, Martin, they took your clothes to be washed and you had some stuff in the pockets. I think they wanted to throw them away but I snatched them before they could. Here, have a look and see if you still want it." 

He pressed something into Martin's hand, and he looked down to see the little silver monopoly dog, such a clear reminder of dear Arthur and his desolate trudge through the snow to find him. His resolve wavered; he _wanted_ Arthur. Martin felt his carefully crafted walls collapse and everyone watched in confusion as his hand trembled and the dog dropped onto the floor with a sonorous clatter. Then, to their horror Martin began to cry, his calm facade immediately morphing into a wracking grief, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Herc looked at his tears, utterly horrorstruck.

"Oh Martin, I'm sorry-I didn't mean-"

They had never seen Martin cry like this before, such quiet, helpless tears, and somehow the lack of noise made it infinitely worse. He covered his face with one hand and waved the other aimlessly, hiccuping.

"I'm sorry, I'm being stupid. It's just, oh _Arthur_." 

They didn't understand exactly what this dog meant to Martin, but it had obviously triggered a bad memory, and Herc felt infuriated with himself for causing this. Martin was still crying, they could see the tears moving past his hand and dripping on his bed.

"He was so frightened of dying. Oh, he was-"

"Martin, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want-"

"But I do. I do. One of the last things he said to me was that he wanted you, Carolyn."

Carolyn felt the traitorous tears threatening again and tried to stare intently at the wall and blink them away. Herc wended his arm around her and she didn't throw it off. It was comforting to know that Arthur had thought of her in those hopeless moments, though it hurt to think how scared he must have been. It had taken all of her effort to wrench herself from his side when they had reached the hospital and a great deal of tugging on Herc's part. She wanted to see his face, to brush his errant curls away from his eyes, to say that she loved him. 

"I'm so sorry for letting him leave G-ERTI. I am such a colossal idiot. I would rather… I would rather I'd have died and Arthur be safe-"

"Don't you dare think that, Martin."

It was Carolyn who had snapped this, surprising everyone with her ferocity, so different from her tears.

"I am glad that you are both safe, don't wish for a death that didn't happen."

"No, you are right. It's foolish of me." 

Tears were still dripping down his face, but he seemed much more stable than he had been before. They were all looking around at each other a little awkwardly, each wondering that they could talk about that wouldn't trigger Martin's sadness, but none of them had much room for anything in their head that wasn't the catastrophe that had been this trip. They sat there in the silence, but it was a much different kind than that of the cold outside had been, Martin rejoiced even in the simple noises of everyones' breathing; it felt unspeakably amazing to be near them all.

"When I was out there, in the cold, I realised when we parted that I never got to say…what I really felt. Carolyn, Douglas, you too Herc, I, I really, well, you're the best friends anyone could hope for. And that isn't just the illness talking."

This heartfelt confession brought a smile to each of their faces, especially as they knew how Martin was usually far too embarrassed to admit these sorts of things. Douglas spoke, the warmness of his voice filling the room.

"Well, how could we leave our Captain behind? Who would I have left to tease and marvel at my ingenuity?"

The room filled with tinkles of laughter, and they all felt glad that the mood had lightened. They seemed to be on the road to a nice pleasant round of banter when the door creaked open, and the doctor Carolyn had been talking to previously peered in and hesitantly entered. All faced turned to him, each person slowly filling with dread. 

"Carolyn Knapp-Shappey-"

"No, I've decided no. That's my decision."

Herc and Martin looked perplexingly at her, but her eyes were focused on the flustered doctor. He blinked.

"No, it's not about that. Is it ok if I take you for a moment?"

"No, I think I shall stay here. Anything you have to share with me can be shared with everyone else. I am bored of secrecy."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but one look at the glowering Carolyn stopped him in his tracks.

"Right. Well, I'm here to tell you that," He consulted his sheet.

"Your son, Arthur Shappey, had another relapse-"

There were gasps of horror which made him carry on hastily.

"But we managed to stabilise him, and we think he's going to be ok." He actually smiled at Carolyn. "No amputation." 

She felt faint, felt like she was floating on a cloud past all of her worries.  She gazed at Herc, unable to speak, and he spun her round even in her dazed state. Douglas peered at Martin and saw fresh tears emerge, but this time they were tears of joy. The doctor smiled at the signs of happiness in the room; it was an awful job being the bearer of news, but it always paid off when the news turned out to be good and these people looked almost paralysed with happiness. Martin spoke, his words filled with wonder.

"He's going to be alright." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you didn't think I was going to be that cruel to Arthur, did you? I just thought it needed to be addressed, but sorry if I made you anxious. I'm sorry that this story got terribly angsty; I'll have to write about more ducklings to balance it out!


	14. Looking for a place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the lateness of this chapter- I had family over and you can't really ensconce yourself in a room when people want to talk to you, wondering what on earth you're doing as you tap away on the laptop! I know I said that this would be the last chapter, and it technically is, but I'm going to do a short epilogue just to round it off. I am eternally grateful for all of the support on this monster of a story, and an immense thank you to my lovely readers. I never thought I was going to embark on another story that was 70,000+ words, but sometimes I suppose a story must grab you!

 

They had obviously wanted to see Arthur immediately after being told that he was out of the danger zone; Martin could feel his legs practically vibrating with excitement at seeing Arthur again after nearly losing him. But the doctor, seeing their eager and determined faces, explained that Arthur had just faced a colossal danger and would be needing his rest or he would never heal. Though she protested hotly, Herc guided Carolyn to a chair knowing that if he didn't she would probably prowl outside of Arthur's door like an angry wolf, harassing and scaring to death any unfortunate doctor that dared cross her path. Douglas wanted to argue that they should see Arthur _immediately_ , possibly in his most authoritative sky god voice, but he knew in his heart that the wisest decision would be to let Arthur rest. He also knew that Martin probably wouldn't be allowed to leave his bed just yet, and one look at the weary and bedridden Martin told him that he could not leave him there while they gallivanted off to Arthur's side. No, they would wait and Arthur would be well. 

 

Down the corridor, the doctors began to file out of the hospital room, noting with satisfaction that their originally dangerously ill charge was faring much better; he didn't look exactly well, but at least he was stable. He was a funny little thing, as they had been arguing between themselves as to how old this man was, as one of the nurses swore due to his smooth, round face and curly brown hair that he must only be out of his teens, but one of the doctors was adamant that he was too tall to be that young, and besides did it really matter? The nurse had grumbled that she was just trying to lighten the mood, as the solemn and frantic atmosphere of the room was no longer needed now it looked like their patient was going to be okay. Arthur slept quite soundly for a little bit, the nurse who was in the room watching just in case anything happened only looked up when he admitted a few soft sounds of distress in his sleep; this was to be expected after what this poor lad had been through. The doctors had expected him to be asleep until the next morning, but after a while the nurse heard a rustle as the man on the bed moved and when she peered closer she saw that his eyes were opened in slits. From the little of his eyes that she could see, he looked rather disorientated and he was struggling to speak through the ventilator which the doctors had left on while he slept. He was trying very hard to speak though, and managed to force some sounds out.

"Wh-wh-"

"Hello, young man. Perhaps you should not try to speak just now."

"Wh-where is..?" 

Her words had no effect on him and she could see that if she did not answer him properly then he would just work himself up into a frenzy, which she could not allow. Arthur's last memories had been of himself holding Martin in the bitterly cold outside, and his mind was finding the jump from that hostile environment to this clean and safe one very difficult; he was afraid. His body felt strange without the reassuring arms of Martin around him, and he ached to see him, to know that he was safe. But his traitorous mouth was finding it difficult to get the right words out no matter how much he struggled. The nurse could tell that he was desperately trying to focus, and she was surprised at how well he was doing considering the amount of medication he was on. She was beginning to feel a little panicked because they had not expected him to wake up this early and she wasn't quite sure what to do, least of all what she should tell him. 

"Martin…Mum?

He practically heaved the question out, and she was afraid of this because she had not been privy to much of the information about the rest of the survivors, and she did not have a clue who Martin was or even if his mother was here. She bit her lip, feeling a little awkward.

"I am afraid I do not-"

"Oh…Oh, they're...? Oh…"

 

The little focus she seemed to spot in his eyes faded a little as his voice became softer and less substantial; she knew she had made some kind of mistake. She could hear that his breathing was becoming much faster on the ventilator, and she would be ashamed of herself if this attracted the doctors. Knowing that she needed to reassure him fast, the nurse spoke quickly.

" I know that you have visitors, would you like me to fetch them?"

 

This vaguely cut through the fog of Arthur's ill mind. Visitors? To him, visitors were strange family members that smelt kind of strange and were a bit mean about him and his Mum, and he couldn't fathom why they would be here of all places. Despite his confusion and lack of a grasp on the situation, he nodded weakly and the nurse felt slightly triumphant and rose from her chair.

"Ok then! I won't be a moment." 

 

Even though he was still trying to grasp what was going on, Arthur felt a sinking feeling as the lady left the room, as he didn't feel like he wanted to be alone in this strange place. He could hear beeping and felt something funny on his mouth and he knew that he must be in a hospital because where else would have such sad walls and a sort of smell that tried to be clean but just wasn't? Being a slightly clumsy person, Arthur had had a fair share of injuries in his life,  thus he wasn't a stranger to hospitals, but he had always been with his Mum and the lack of Carolyn was making him feel anxious. When he had left Martin in G-ERTI and had ploughed on alone he felt brave and prepared to be by himself, but being reunited with Martin had shown him that he never, ever wanted to be alone again. The beeping of the machines and whoosh of his ventilator was making him feel more frightened the longer he stayed alone, and he closed his eyes tightly and wished for someone, _anyone_ to come and talk to him, to drive the fear away.

 

When the nurse entered Martin's room, three pairs of eyes turned towards her eagerly; depute Martin's diligence at staying awake, he had eventually succumbed to sleep, which they all hoped he would do as he was obviously still healing from his ordeal. Noting this, the nurse tried to speak quietly.

"You are the visitors for Arthur Shappey, yes?"

Carolyn felt a rush of interest, hoping that their hours and hours of waiting were finally over and she was allowed to see her son. 

"Yes, why? Is he ok? Has something happened to him?"

"He has just woken up and I think he would like to see someone. Are you his mother?"

Carolyn nodded, which pleased the nurse as she really did not want to have to go back and inform the young man that his mother was not here. She wracked her brain fro the other name the man had mentioned.

"And he mentioned someone called, er, Matin-"

"That's me."

She obviously hadn't been quiet enough, as this interruption had come from the man in the bed. She had half hoped that he wasn't Martin, because she wasn't wholly sure whether he was allowed out of his bed yet, but couldn't see how she was to say no to him. Martin had been slowly drifting into consciousness for a while now, and hearing his name had triggered his waking up. 

"Is this about Arthur? Can I see Arthur?" 

"I, I, er-"

Seeing that this poor nurse was looking rather flustered, Douglas decided that he should try and take control of the situation, as he was very good at guiding situations where he wanted them to go, being an expert smuggler and solver of problems. He put on his smoothest voice, the one he usually reserved when he got into his worst smuggling related pickles.

"You _did_ say that he was awake and he is probably very scared and all alone in there. How about we just pop in and cheer him up? We won't overstimulate him, and if we are told to leave then we will."

Carolyn caught his eye at this last statement, knowing full well that once they were in the room no force on earth would be able to tear them away from Arthur, but Douglas thought it was probably best to keep up a sort of polite pretense. He could tell that the nurse had softened with the authority in his soothing voice, but he saw her eyes flicker nervously to Martin, who was trying to lift himself out of bed. Herc cottoned on to Douglas's idea.

"How about I come with you to find a doctor and we will see if Martin is well enough to get out of bed and come with us on our visit?"

 

Feeling glad that someone else was taking charge, the nurse agreed and left the room with Herc, and Martin huffed as the door closed.

"I'm going to see Arthur whether I get permission or not."

"We know that, Martin, but it's good to keep up with the formalities. If anyone will be able to persuade them to let you out of this room, it is Herc."

 

The doctor was not entirely pleased at allowing Martin to leave his bed, but one look at the thunderous and determined man had told him that he was just going to sneak out of his room anyway and he would do much damage to himself if he tried to take out his I.V needle. Luckily, the doctor fitted one that could be wheeled around and soon enough Martin was on his feet, a little shaky but at least upright. The others made to move forwards as Martin shuffled away from his bed, but he spoke with teeth gritted against the sudden onslaught of pain,

"I'm fine, I can do this. I can do this."   

They refrained from helping him, knowing full well how much Martin hated feeling like he was a burden on people, and he was grateful that they were allowing him this small pride as he had been feeling rather undignified on the hospital bed. He knew that dignity wasn't worth much in recent times, god knew he had lost any dignity he might have had when snivelling on the aeroplane, but it felt good to be clutching at a little bit of normality. He was moving quite successfully onwards until he stumbled slightly near the door and would have fallen, but he felt a reassuring hand grasp his shoulder and hold him firmly in place. He would have felt resentful, but when he looked back and saw the warm and slightly amused eyes of Herc, he could clearly see the message written there. _You aren't alone._ And, suddenly, Martin didn't feel like receiving help was undignified. He was with people who cared about him, who had rushed through the freezing snow and carried him away from it, who had _saved_ him, and he didn't feel ashamed at all. They all looked in wonder at his smiling face, they had almost been expecting a frown, and Herc's steady hold turned into a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He shuffled out of the room, allowing Douglas to overtake him so he could hold open the door. It wasn't a long walk to Arthur's room, and when they were outside there was a slightly awkward pause as they weren't sure who should enter first. They could all clearly sense Martin's desire to see Arthur, but Carolyn's want was just as strong. For once, neither wanted to offend the other.

"Perhaps you should, Martin-"

"No, not at all-"

Douglas and Herc looked at each other with eyebrows raised; it was not often that Carolyn and Martin were this polite to each other. Despite his need to see Arthur, Martin knew that Carolyn should really go in first as she was his mother, and for some reason he was beginning to feel a little nervous. It was strange; he had been so convinced that Arthur had died out there in the snow that he could hardly believe that he was on the other side of that door. And what if Arthur resented him for allowing him to nearly die in the snow, away from his mother? Martin had forgotten that Arthur was not the kind of person to be resentful, as his anxiety had rendered his memory hazy. He hung back and gestured to the door, fearing a wrath that he somehow thought might come from Arthur.

"You're his mum, Carolyn. You have to go first." 

She peered at him carefully, but decided that it wasn't the time to pick on him. Douglas could sense an odd sense of reluctance radiating from Martin and he thought he might know the name for it; guilt. The only cure for it would be for Martin to go and talk to Arthur, as Douglas was certain that five seconds with Arthur would convince Martin that Arthur did not blame him for anything. Martin stayed next to the door with his eyes averted, allowing the others to walk past him before he shuffled into the room. His reluctance was sad to behold, but they knew he would snap out of it soon enough. Carolyn moved further into the dull room, fearing what she might see.

 

Her worst fears were confirmed as she saw Arthur, somehow looking small on his hospital bed, dwarfed by the machines around him. She could barely see his face as he had a ventilator on, but what little she could see was pale and ill looking and she just wanted to hold him. But she was frightened of hurting him, of causing his poor body more damage, so she stood there limply wondering if he had really been awake or whether the nurse had just thought that they wanted to see him. But then, as she moved closer she saw that his eyes were open and were wide in disbelief.

"M-mum?" 

His voice was still small and croaked, and it cut through all of Carolyn's confidences that she was completely fine, that she was coping well thank you very much. She tried to answer, her throat horribly constricted, as she moved even closer to the bed.

"Hello, Arthur."

" _Mum_!" 

His feelings of utter joy were palpable, felt by all of the others, and they knew that if he had been in the position to do so he would have tried to do a little victory dance. He attempted to move his head so that he could see her better, so Carolyn quickly moved to his side before he accidentally did any damage and placed a hand on his head, stroking his hair delicately. She saw his eyes close as her fingers moved through his curls, and she wondered how on earth she could have agreed to leave him behind.

"We found you." 

Arthur gave a funny little rasp then, and it took them a moment to realise that it was laughter. He wanted to reach out, to take her hand in his, but when he stretched out his arm he could feel that his hands were bound in bandages; his arms fell limply down on the bed. To distract him from feeling too sad at this, Douglas and Herc moved closer to Arthur's bed, watching as they moved into his eye line and his face erupted into pure delight. 

"D-douglas, Herc!"

 

They smiled down benevolently at him, trying their best not to get in Carolyn's way as she was still gazing down at him as if he might disappear and stroking his head softly. Arthur was beginning to feel a happiness burgeoning in his chest, a beautiful warm happiness that was beginning to drive away all of his fear and loneliness, or at least make these hostile feelings less prominent. He thought he was never going to see them again, had been the only one who had been saved, and he didn't think that he could have faced life without them. 

 

Martin watched from afar, seeing how completely content Arthur looked and feeling very unwilling to cause a break in his happiness. Arthur had not asked about him, perhaps he didn't really care or was glad to be rid of him; Martin's previous eagerness had dissolved into a feeling that he should just leave. He couldn't know that Martin's name had been on Arthur's lips ever since he had woken up, but he had been frightened about what the others might have told him; he feared that terrible news was forthcoming. But, his curiosity got the better of him as he tried to stare past the three gathered around him.

"Wh-where's Martin?"

 

Carolyn finally moved her eyes away from Arthur to bring them to Martin who was rooted to the spot with a curiously frightened expression on his face. Arthur could not see him, and Carolyn could not fathom why he would hang back when he practically wanted to storm into Arthur's room before. She caught his eye and saw a desperate battle raging in his; the desire to stay where he was versus moving to Arthur's bed.

"Martin is, well, he is-"

Her hesitancy troubled Arthur, and his mind flickered back to when she had said "found you." Not "you and Martin", _you_. A nasty sort of thought entered his mind and he was completely still for a moment. Everyone peered at him in concern as his voice struggled to come out, this time more strangled with sadness than anything.

"Oh no, is he…? M-m-" 

They could hear his breathing becoming more laboured on the ventilator as he worked himself up into a panic and Carolyn looked at Martin furiously, clearly wondering why the hell he hadn't moved forwards. Knowing that he had no choice but to move closer but still dreading it somehow, Martin shambled forwards, his I.V rolling softly along the ground. Arthur looked up at the sound, and his eyes seemed glued to Martin as he moved closer to his bed. Martin didn't know what to say; what did you say to the one with whom you had been through so much? He looked down at Arthur, it was funny really how it was one of the first times that he was the one looking down at him, as the thought gave him no pleasure at all. Arthur was still staring at him in a wondrous silence.

"Er, hi." 

It was a pathetic greeting to use and Douglas rolled his eyes as he thought dryly _and they say romance is dead_ , but Arthur did not seem to care. Now that Martin had uttered words it meant that he couldn't possibly be an illusion or a dream, and the corners of Arthur's mouth turned up into a smile. They could see that his eyes were becoming shiny with tears, and this time his voice did not shake with effort but with emotion.

"I'm so, so _h-happy._ "

How could Martin have ever thought that Arthur would be angry at him? Martin could feel his face erupt into a large smile to match Arthur's, and it transformed his tired and worried face into something lovelier. Douglas noted with a small smirk the adoring sort of look that Arthur was throwing at Martin; truthfully, it was the kind of look that Arthur had been giving Martin for a while now, but this traumatic experience had offered Douglas clarity, and he suspected that Arthur didn't feel just respect towards Martin. No, he was looking at Martin as if he were a precious treasure, one that he had nearly lost to the coldness and the wind. Arthur reached out his arm to touch Martin, forgetting again, but Martin simply took hold of his wrist and stroked it, seeing Arthur's toes crinkle up at the end of the bed at the contact. The other three were watching this scene now in definite amusement; what on earth had happened in the days that they were gone? Martin's eyes roamed Arthur's body, taking in all of the wires and bandages and pale skin, and he was suddenly hit by how close he had been to losing Arthur; despite his efforts to control his emotions, he could feel his eyes welling up. Arthur, noticing his tears, rasped,

"Skipper, why are you crying?"

At the sound of his nickname, spoken with such fondness, Martin began crying in earnest, though his face looked more happy than sad. Arthur was baffled and Douglas's sardonic voice decided to break the ice.

"Martin has become something of a human fountain as of late, Arthur. I fear that if any of us complimented him on the sheer captainliness of his hat then he would begin to cry like an actress."

"Oi you, shut up. I'm crying because I'm happy, Arthur. It's… a happy cry." 

"But, but why are you crying if you're happy? I'm feeling happy, oh no, should I be crying too?" 

At the sheer bewilderment on Arthur's face, Martin couldn't help but laugh, the tears shining on his face looking rather peculiar next to his laughing smile. The others joined in, Douglas and Herc's loud guffaws blending in with Carolyn's giggle, and Arthur gave up trying to understand and just joined in with the laughter. He made them splutter even more when he lifted his other hand to try and point at Martin.

"Aha! I made you laugh! You need to stop that silly crying _right now_."

It was amusing watching Arthur trying to order Martin around as if he was Carolyn, and even more amusing to watch Martin comply, wiping the tears from his face and trying to affect a neutral expression. The sense of sadness and melancholy that had pervaded through their days began to lift as they sat in the room and chatted, each one utterly delighted that the others were safe. Of course, they knew there was a long way to go yet as G-ERTI needed to be fixed, Arthur was only at the beginning on the road to recovery and Martin wasn't sure whether he would ever be able to go into the snow again and feel delight. But it was wonderful to sit there and bask in each others company, to lightly tease each other and forget the darkness that had been looming for a while now. Arthur's breathing had become more regular, meaning that he didn't have to rely on the ventilator too much and he was therefore able to speak a lot more, though his voice was still rather croaky. Herc had been detailing his attempts to try and assemble a rescue team, and he could see that Carolyn was looking at him in fondness when he said that he had travelled straight from home to Russia. Carolyn and Douglas had been detailing their discovery of the cabin, and Herc whistled.

"Wow, so it ended up being a kind of long haul sleepover with you and Carolyn then?"

"Why yes, we plaited each others hair and sang camping songs throughout the night. It was a delightful experience- should we book it again for next winter, Carolyn?"

This made them all chuckle again, and Carolyn muttered "Idiots.", but smiled all the same. When Douglas had finished recounting his tale, there was a brief pause in which everyone looked sideways at Martin, wondering if he was going to enlighten them about what had happened to him and Arthur on G-ERTI as they had not had the chance to ask him yet. The memories of the past few days lingered in his mind like a hellish nightmare, but Martin didn't know what good it would do to put it off. A doctor had come in whilst Douglas was speaking to check on Arthur, but he had not told them to leave, though he had cast a furtive look at Martin as if considering suggesting that he should leave; one look at Carolyn had dispelled this thought. Martin locked eyes with Arthur before he spoke, and saw the nightmare reflected in them too. But Arthur gave a tiny little nod and tried to curl his wrist around Martin's clutching hand, and he drew strength form Arthur's permission.

"Well, a few days into you lot leaving Arthur and I discovered that there was a crack in the heat exchangers."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Douglas.

"Carbon monoxide?"

"Yes, but I don't think any had leaked, though I didn't want to take any chances. So we had to turn the heating off. It was…earlier than we had expected."

The thought of Arthur and Martin sat huddled and shivering assaulted each of their minds again, and all three felt guilty even though they had done all in their power to help. Carolyn spoke.

"So is that why you did not answer the radio? Because you had to turn the power off?"

Martin sighed, remembering his failure.

"No, we missed the radio because Arthur had just hurt his hands and I had to go into the hold to make a fire. He was getting delirious, he couldn't have answered the radio and when he told me that he had heard your voices I thought he had been dreaming. It was a stupid mistake." 

"No, not stupid. Just unfortunate. How did…how did Arthur hurt his hands?" 

Arthur seemed to shrink slightly away from Carolyn, as if afraid that she would think that he had been an idiot.

"I slipped and got my hands frozen to G-ERTI's rail- it was _horrible._ I didn't mean to do it, I mean I know that I was a bit of an idiot at St. Petersburg but this was an accident-"

"Arthur, Arthur- no one is angry at you, least of all me. It was an accident and it could have happened to anyone."

She felt filled with sadness as she imagined Arthur stuck to the rail, perhaps crying out and deeply afraid. Herc shifted on his seat and something fell out of his pocket; he tried to pick it up without anyone else seeing it but Martin had been watching him curiously and had clearly seen the folded plastic sheet which contained his farewell note.

"Oh."

Arthur saw his stricken expression and tried to crane his neck towards Herc.

"What, what s it?"

"Nothing, Arthur! It doesn't-"

"But Skip's gone a funny colour! I have to know!"

With a feeling rather like having to extract a large thorn from his side, he had better get it over with quickly, Martin spoke, resolutely not looking at Arthur.

"It's a note. I left it when I went looking for you." 

Arthur frowned as he absorbed this information, wondering how a mere note could be causing Martin such discomfort. Then he had a dawning realisation that it must have been a farewell note explaining that Arthur had gone, a farewell to the rest of the crew. He suddenly felt deeply ashamed that he hadn't even thought of leaving his mum an explanation, had selfishly left the aeroplane. 

'Oh Skip- I'm sorry! I should never have left!"

"But why did you leave?"

The question everyone had secretly been wanting to know had been finally asked by Herc, in the softest of voices. it wasn't accusatory, but Arthur still felt the question stab through him and he answered though his eyes were on Martin.

"I thought if I left…I could get help. I couldn't watch you suffer, Martin. That's why I am the coward, not you. I wasn't strong enough to stay and watch you die." 

Martin remembered Arthur accusing him of being a coward and realised that he must have been projecting the feelings that he had been thinking about himself onto Martin, as Martin would tell him to leave and so he would have a legitimate reason to do so. He couldn't blame Arthur- he had _hated_ watching that merry face become pale and ill and besides, none of it mattered now. 

"It doesn't matter that you left, Arthur. All that mattered was that I knew you wanted to come back."

After this, they looked at each other so intently that the others rather thought they were intruding on a very private moment. It was clear to see that, for the moment, Arthur only had eyes for Martin, and Douglas thought that it was probably time to leave the two alone.

"Righto, Arthur. I think we'll just leave you be but we will be back after you've had a little rest, yes?"

Martin and Arthur jumped as if they had been in a trance, breaking away with reluctance.

"Wha- yes, yes thank you for coming to see me! I'm feeling much more…me."

Douglas clapped him gently on the shoulder, winked at Martin a wink full of suggestiveness, who turned a deep shade of red, and made his way towards the door. Herc clasped his arm again and smiled, happy that they were all together again. Carolyn leaned down and kissed Arthur on the nose and he crinkled his face up like he had always done when he was a boy, not in embarrassment but in pleasure at being kissed.

"I missed you, you silly boy."

"Me too, Mum. Love you."

"I love you too."

They both knew that these were the words that they had been wanting to say to each other every since they had been separated, and the words left their mouth with a sense of sweetness, of happiness. She moved with Herc towards the door, and Martin blushed harder under their amused stares.

"I-I'll be out in a moment."

"Hmm."

Ignoring Carolyn's disbelief, Martin turned back to Arthur who didn't look exactly better, but definitely looked happier than when they had first entered the room. They both gazed at each other for a while, saying nothing and basking in the sheer incredulity of the fact that they were both alive, that they were together. The last time they had been alone together they were lying on the snow waiting for death, and it seemed like being in this room with each other must be a dream. Martin knew that he would have to leave the room soon, he had been gone from his bed for far too long now, but he could not tear his eyes away from Arthur, and he did not want Arthur to be alone ever again. The atmosphere of the room had changed now that they were alone; it was filled with a kind of hesitant joy as they both wanted to speak but could not quite find the right words. After a few moments, Arthur was the first to speak, his large green eyes softening as they drunk in Martin's pale and drawn face, the freckles standing out clearly.

"When I woke up in here alone, I thought I was the only one they had found. It made me feel…sadder than I've ever felt."

Martin knew exactly what he meant; he had suffered this feeling when he had woken up dazed and confused earlier on, but his heart still clenched painfully at Arthur's sad confession, feeling one of his own spilling out of his mouth unbidden.  

"I thought they hadn't found you, that they hadn't managed to save you. The thought of a world without you in it, Arthur…I can't think of anything worse." 

Arthur was deeply touched by this statement, as he had always drifted through life thinking that he was liked well enough but that he had never particularly mattered. That he was Arthur Shappey, the inconsequential steward who you could share a smile with and not much more. But Martin's words made him feel wanted, made him feel that he was important; he was Martin's Arthur. He felt full to the brim with love, like he had plunged himself into one of his well-loved baths and was breathing in contentment. Martin was sat next to him but it wasn't enough, he wasn't close enough; he had grown used to Martin being next to him when they had been stuck aboard G-ERTI, and his body screamed out for his touch.

"Skip…?"

The tentativeness of Arthur's voice interested Martin immediately.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Do you mind…would you come closer and put your chest near my head?"

It was not quite what Martin had been expecting, and he couldn't help but look at Arthur in a non-plussed sort of way, wondering why on earth he had wanted him to do that.

"My chest?"

Seeing Martin's confusion made Arthur blush now, but Martin could not deny that he quite liked Arthur's cheeks with merry little red patches. Arthur's request had sounded less strange in his head, and he tried to explain himself.

"I know it sounds weird, but when we were in the snow and I leant forwards, I could hear your heart beating and it was just so lovely. I thought we were going to die, but I could hear that and it made me feel so glad to know you were still there." 

Without a word, Martin shifted from his chair and carefully climbed onto Arthur's bed. It was lucky that Martin was short, as he didn't take up much room and could easily avoid leaning on any of the machines attached to Arthur; he moved his arms so that they were hugging Arthur's body but so that he was raised slightly in order for Arthur's ear to be near his chest. It felt slightly exhilarating to be here on the bed next to Arthur, and his excitement clearly showed through the increased beating of his heart, clear to hear in the quietness of the room. Arthur had his eyes closed, listening to the study thrum in clear ecstasy. When he had been in the snow, he knew that he was drifting fatally off into unconsciousness, and the only thing that had prevented him from becoming either sorrowful or panicked had been the steady _thud thud thud_ of Martin's heart that had told him that even if he was to go, at least Martin was alive. The sound had anchored him to sanity, and he much preferred the beats to the sounds of the machinery beeping in the room or the silence when he had been alone. Martin felt absurdly proud that he was able to generate such a comfort to Arthur, and he clutched his arms ever tighter around Arthur's tired body. When Martin spoke, his voice rumbled through his body and to Arthur's ear, which made Arthur squirm with happiness.

"I should really go back to my room, you know."

"But you're not going to, are you?"

"My my, Arthur Shappey. Who knew that _you_ ," He punctuated this word with a quick kiss to Arthur's head, "Would be such a bad influence?"

They both laughed at the thought that Arthur would ever be bad, then Arthur burrowed his whole face into Martin's chest, he own arms trying their best to give him an Arthur bear hug. Martin stroked his head, knowing full well that if he stayed here then the others would probably walk in and find them in this compromising posititon, and although he knew exactly what Douglas would say about that, it didn't matter if they had nearly died- Douglas always had some wisecrack ready, he found he didn't really care. He could feel Arthur relax properly, and how could he leave when relaxation was probably the best thing for Arthur right now? After a while, Arthur's breathing became heavier and Martin suspected he had gone to sleep, at last finding comfort in Martin's arms. He looked down at Arthur in his arms, at his lashes gently ghosting his cheeks and he couldn't help but whisper,

"How could I have ever let you go? I don't deserve you, but I love you."

"Don't be silly, Martin. But I love you too." 

 

***

 

After a little while, Carolyn had grown bored of waiting in Martin's room.

"What's taking him so long? What is he doing?"

"I really don't think you want the answer to that question, Carolyn."

"Douglas, don't be so obscene. You have no evidence for this gooey idea of yours."

"Carolyn, did you _see_ the looks they were giving each other? I don't know what happened when they were stuck on G-ERTI, but I have a feeling that she may have played cupid in our absence."

 

Carolyn muttered "Ridiculous", but she had indeed seen the furtive and longing looks that Arthur and Martin had been casting at each other. It was strange- she thought she probably should be feeling more annoyed than she actually did, but she could only really summon a kind of baffled amusement. Arthur was old enough to choose his own romantic partners, and at least Martin knew exactly what he was getting into and had an adequate fear of Carolyn, just the amount that was appropriate for a mother-in-law. She was filled with a sort of vindictive pleasure at the thought of inviting Martin round for a Sunday lunch. Oho, she was going to have a lot of fun. 

 

When it was clear that Martin was not going to return, they decided that they should fetch him before the doctors found him and got annoyed, and they all left the room and made their way down the corridor. Carolyn hesitated at the door, so Douglas took the opportunity to push past and she heard a barked "Ha!" which wafted triumphantly through the door. When she entered the room, she saw precisely what was the source of Douglas's amusement; Martin and Arthur lay entwined on the bed, a much happier mimicry of their desperate embrace on the snow. Herc drew up beside her, and she heard him sigh with happiness.

"Oh, how lovely. I suppose there is all the evidence you need, Carolyn." 

"Unless you require me to draw a diagram?"

Douglas ducked as Carolyn threw a paper cup at him; it missed and hit the wall, causing Martin to shift slightly at the noise. He didn't wake, but wended his arms more closely around Arthur. Carolyn watched, torn between amusement and exasperation.

"You know what? I don't think I have the heart to move him." 

"Let's just stay in here together and watch over them. We might as well, and there are enough chairs." 

They settled themselves into seats once more, Herc bringing his close towards Carolyn's so that he could put an arm around her. He was still finding it surprising that she wasn't throwing his arm off, as she usually did, but he supposed that even Carolyn required affection even if she realised it or not. She was staring at he two on the bed, clearly lost in thought.

"Can you imagine if we hadn't found them?"

"We would have looked until we were frozen ourselves. And, although it sounds terrible, they had accepted what was happening; they were happy. I think we could learn a lot from them." 

Carolyn smiled ruefully at Herc. Douglas leaned back in his chair, filled with deep affection as he looked round at everyone.

"And besides, we would have found them eventually. You don't abandon family."

It was rather a sentimental statement for Douglas to make, and she wondered briefly if he was being sarcastic. But she recognised the smile on his face to be a genuine one, and a genuine eye crinkling Douglas Richardson smile was not to be scoffed at. Carolyn had not really had a very good track record with her family, but as she surveyed all the occupants in the room, she decided that she couldn't wish for finer people. She wouldn't say it, but they all knew the affection that lay buried deep. 

 

As they sat in the warm little room, the terrible memories of their desperate foray into the frozen wastelands were slowly becoming a hazy nightmare, but they knew it would take a long time for the scars to heal, for the nightmare to become a mere bad memory, easily brushed away with a kind word, a kiss on the cheek. They said that you didn't know what you had until you had lost it, and they all knew that they had come dangerously close to feeling the full force of this lesson; perhaps it had been a tough way to begin appreciating each others worth, but they were glad of it. It had been a tough, almost demoralising way to learn a lesson, but it was a deeply pleasant thing to know that each had been willing to die for the other, whether is was to carry them through a snowstorm or to clutch them to their chest to ward off the biting cold. Eventually, they knew the memories of love and bravery would overtake the nightmare, to drive an intensely shining light filled with love deep in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope a little bit of humour managed to ease off some of the angst I have been writing, and I'm glad I decided to keep them all together- it would take a mighty force to separate MJN. I promise that the wait for the epilogue won't be nearly as long, so I hope you have enjoyed this :)


	15. Epilogue: Just grab a hold of my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said a short epilogue- oh, what funny jokes I make sometimes! I can't believe I've finally finished this, and I'm just so grateful for all the support and lovely words from everyone; it makes it a treat to write and gives me confidence. I was too worried to even write fanfiction before this year, and it really means a lot for people to be so lovely. 
> 
> A special thanks to Starlithorizon, SarahHaley and AxeMeAboutAxinomancy for their support, an otter for each of you!
> 
> And so, onwards to the end, for now at least.

 

It was not easy, but was it ever going to be easy? It was going to be a little while before G-ERTI was up and running again, but although they did not have the excuse of work to spend time with each other, they never allowed themselves to be separated for long. Martin and Arthur had decided to take it slowly, knowing full well that they had endless days to spend with each other and the thought of moving in together required proper planning, if that's what they decided to do. Arthur privately thought that he had a large Martin-shaped space in his bed that he was willing to fill up straight away, but he knew he had to indulge Martin his wishes. Carolyn knew that she had once told Martin that if he wanted to move in he would be met with her displeasure, but it was pleasant for Arthur to have a companion to share his time with; goodness knows she had spent her whole life trying to make sure Arthur was at least vaguely happy, not that that was a particularly hard job, but she approved of Martin. He was an idiot, everyone was, but she did like Martin, although she would never admit to this. She had indeed invited Martin to a Sunday lunch, and she had stared down the table with wolfish amusement at his absurd nervousness, until Douglas surprised him by arriving late and making the atmosphere much more laden with a sense of fun. They had invited Douglas round a lot, and they could see that he knew exactly why; it could get lonely in his house and he wordlessly appreciated that they involved him in their evenings, though he masked it under a well practised dryness. Arthur frequently begged Douglas to stay and watch a film with them, and Douglas usually declined as he was unwilling to stay and watch a ridiculous film that Arthur would inevitably choose, but he relented when Arthur insisted that he stay and watch 'Airplane' with them. What with Carolyn and Herc arguing over which character was the best, Douglas's sarcastic comments and Martin and Arthur being relentlessly teased because Arthur had pulled Martin onto his lap and wouldn't let go, it wasn't watching the film that was important. They were together, and they knew how precious that was.

 

But there were bad days too. 

 

Martin had learnt the hard way never to allow Arthur to wake up alone in the bed when he stayed over because one unfortunate time he had risen from the bed to go to the bathroom next to Arthur's bedroom, gently untangling Arthur's limbs from his and leaving the soft, warm cocoon of covers. He had been in the bathroom inspecting his still gaunt face in a mirror and wondering if he was ever going to look well-fed when he heard a shout. 

"Martin!" 

When he reentered the room, he saw Arthur scrabbling about on the bed as if searching for something, his eyes wild and breath ragged. He seemed unfocused, unable to stop the word ripping from his mouth.

"Martin, where are you?" 

Martin hurried to the bed, hoping desperately that Carolyn had not heard Arthur's shouts, unable to know that these were sadly frequent in the times that Martin was not in the house. Carolyn would usually come to the room to soothe Arthur, or Herc would come in her stead if he knew that Carolyn was particularly tired. All that Arthur usually needed was a small hug, a quiet reassurance, and he would go back to sleep feeling rather ashamed. But he sobbed as Martin held him, his mind still full of the nightmare.

"I dreamt, I dreamt that-"

"Shh, shh, Arthur, it's fine."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just, I woke up and the bed was empty and I thought-"

"I'm here now. I'm here." 

Kisses placed lightly on Arthur's nose, his cheeks, his neck served to calm him down, to convince him that Martin was truly there, but his hands still gripped Martin tightly as if he feared he was still a mirage. Eventually, with Martin's arms around him and soothing nothings being whispered in his ears, Arthur fell back to sleep. Carolyn, hovering behind the door quietly sighed with relief as she heard Arthur become quieter. She was proud of Martin; the Martin she had first employed would never have been able to deal with Arthur with such care and attention, and the fact that he was trying so hard and succeeding was a balm to her worries. She slipped back into bed next to the lightly breathing Herc, though she knew he had been waiting for her as he wrapped an arm around her as she lowered her body under the covers. Martin stayed awake for a long while, fearing that Arthur might wake up again, but he did not stir through the night and when Martin awoke it was to a smiling face, delighted as always that he had woken up next to Martin. Of course, Martin knew that it wasn't his fault that Arthur had accidentally woken up just as he had left the room, but he endeavoured to never let Arthur descend into that kind of panic again. If Arthur did wake up in the night in the throes of a nightmare Martin was there waiting, his arms ready to cuddle Arthur and words soft, his utterances of "I'm here." serving to calm Arthur back to sleep, or to hold him until he eventually did. 

 

During his waking hours Arthur seemed well enough, although he didn't like to be left alone very much but that was easily avoided as he had any of the other three to distract him. Martin also felt the toll that the trip had taken on his sanity as he wanted to be strong for all of them, but he grew nervous if any of them left him for a moment, wondering dully if he was going to see them again. He knew that the worry would fade with time, but he knew how anxious he could get so it was a blessing to have such a wonderfully upbeat person as Arthur by his side. Fitton had seemed like a dull prison to Martin, somewhere where he felt obliged to be but had no real enjoyment of, but Arthur found wonder even in the smallest of things. He seemed inexorably drawn to animals, so much so that a walk through the town could take far longer as of course Arthur had to pet every cat he saw, all of which seemed to appear as if by magic whenever Arthur walked past, but Martin didn't care as he enjoyed watching Arthur happily stroking the cats. They often walked Snoopadoop together, so often in fact that Martin had long gotten over the indignity of shouting the dog's name, a shame that Herc wholeheartedly agreed with. Snoopadoop had seemed to have accepted Martin as part of the family, and Carolyn had joked that it was saddening to see how her once faithful hound had betrayed her by plodding over to Martin and Herc when they rang the door bell, her tongue lolling and tail wagging. 

 

They had even been for many dinners at Wendy Crieff's house, for as soon as their plane had arrived back in Fitton Martin had been shocked to see his mother standing there looking stricken; the last time he had seen an expression on her face like that was when he had returned to Fitton after the bird strike in St Petersburg. She flung herself unashamedly upon Martin, but for once he didn't shrink away from her embrace with embarrassment and held onto her very, very tightly. 

"Martin, oh Martin! They told me you had disappeared, I've been sick with worry, and Caitlin's been in tears and Simon's hardly been able to focus on work-"

"What, really?"

"We've all been beside ourselves, you silly boy! I knew that when you finally became a pilot there would be risks, but I _never-"_

 _"_ Mum, Mum, it's fine now- I love you. And Simon and Caitlin too."

She peered at him carefully then; Matin did not usually disperse feeling so easily, and this admittance was an indication of how severely the disaster had effected him. Martin was glad that he had said it, as he didn't think he had told her enough these past years.

"I love you too, Martin. And I know they want to see you- I don't think they wanted to smother you as you got back. That's my job."

"I'll come and see them soon."

This was shocking in itself, as Martin always made excuses not to come, but Wendy thought that maybe disasters sometimes brought out the best in people. She turned suddenly to Carolyn with a fathomless expression, and Carolyn shrunk back slightly as if feeing a tirade. She had after all caused Wendy's son to fall into a dangerous situation.

"And you," Carolyn looked like she wanted to step back. "You found my son! Oh, how could I ever repay you?" 

Carolyn found her hand being wrung profusely and could hardly speak with the force of this lady's gratitude forced upon her.

'Well, I, er, it was rather a group effort-"

"You've all been _so_ brave, I want to treat you all to lunch in Fitton. Don't give me that look, Martin, I want to say thank you." 

 

They all set off to find the nicest cafe they could in Fitton, a difficult job but one which Douglas was clearly the expert in and soon they found a lovely looking place which had delicious looking cakes in the window. Having been eating bland hospital food for a while now coupled with their depressing lack of food beforehand intensified the smells of the cafe tenfold, and they ordered tea, filling the wait with roaring laughter and stories. Martin could see his mum watching him carefully, but how could she possibly know that he and Arthur were holding hands under the table? He hadn't told her about Arthur, he wasn't quite sure when to broach the subject. When Martin said he would go up and order the cakes, Wendy stood up too and said she would join him. When they went to the till and placed their order, Wendy remained there for a moment as if trying to decide whether to speak or not. Slowly, she spoke, her arms folded.

"So. Arthur."

"What about him?"

He spoke too quickly, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Martin, the only time I've seen you look at something the way you look at him was when we first went to Duxford Air Museum."

Martin could feel the blush creep up on his face, and this mingled with his mother's clear amusement nettled him.

"I've not been staring at him!"

"I'm not saying you have," She said delicately, "But I want you to know that I am happy for you."

Martin wasn't sure what he had been expecting- disappointment? Rage? But he knew he had been being silly- even before the disastrous crash his mother had been fond of Arthur. 

"You are?"

"Martin, we've only ever wanted you to be happy, and I can clearly see that Arthur's doing a far better job than we have ever managed. I can see that he _adores_ you, and that's good enough for me. Now, a Battenberg? Or maybe some chocolate cake?"

 

 

When it was time for them to leave, Wendy hung onto Martin for a long while, clinging on to her son who she had been told might not return. They had all been so worried about Martin, the whole Crieff family, and she was looking forward for Martin to come home and see his siblings. When she finally let go she turned to Arthur and hugged him too; he was a little surprised because Martin had said that they shouldn't tell his mother about them just yet, but he hugged her back strongly.

"You must come round soon, Arthur. I think my board games are feeling lonely."

"Oh yes! I'd love to Mrs. Crieff!"

"Please, call me Wendy."

"Ha, ok, Wendy!"  

He said the word with a slight giggle, as if it were forbidden, and she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Arthur noticed with delight that Skip had inherited his nose crinkle when he laughed from him mum and he looked forward to going to her house again. Wendy clasped hands with everyone else, and they waved a cheerful goodbye, each going their separate ways. That first night back home Arthur would not allow Martin to go back to his flat, telling him that his and Carolyn's house would be warm and Martin could use their lovely big bath, just like he'd mentioned before. Carolyn raised an eyebrow at this, but decided not to pursue Martin's blushing cheeks. Douglas stored this ammunition for a later date, and said his goodbyes, informing everyone that he really needed to go home and put on some damned new clothes. That first night, Martin had fallen asleep in Arthur's arms but not in the coldness of the aircraft, not in the drab, scratchy hospital bed but in an obscenely comfy double bed, the kindest and loveliest man in the world wrapped around him. 

 

 

***

 

 

 

It was a while before it happened, but Martin knew it must eventually. They had been told earlier on in the week that G-ERTI would be flown home, miraculously in one piece, well perhaps many pieces stuck together, and that she would soon be ready to resume usual business. MJN had been on a sort of hiatus, and despite the large amount of free time they had been enjoying, all were eager to begin working again, to soar the immeasurable skies with each other. They had missed G-ERTI, she seemed to be the missing member in their group, and Carolyn had promised that when she arrived they could go and see her to pacify Arthur's longing. But, as the day drew nearer the sky soon became dark with roiling clouds, and Martin knew due to the drop in temperature that these were not rain clouds. He had been noticing that Arthur had been going out less and less, and this seemed to coincide with the drop in temperature, and when the day dawned to go and visit G-ERTI Martin opened the curtains in his attic bedroom to reveal a fine layer of snow on the ground. He cursed their rotten luck; why did it have to snow in Fitton now? His body was only just beginning to forget the icy numbness of the Russian tundra, he had stopped panicking whenever he became too cold. He wasn't sure if he could face the snow, but Arthur had been so excited at the thought of being reunited with G-ERTI, and Arthur had noticed his stillness as he looked out of the window. He joined Martin, looking out at the white in silence. Then, in a small voice,

"Oh."

Martin saw the struggle fighting in Arthur again, the battle between wanting to leave and hating the snow and it made Martin realise something. They couldn't live their lives hating the snow, living in fear and hiding indoors. Running away from your fears was no solution, in fact it had almost resulted in their deaths, and it was foolish to blame the snow for something they themselves had orchestrated. They had waited, they were reluctant, but Martin thought it was time to face the snow. He took Arthur's hand delicately; they had long since healed but habit had made him gentle. 

"We're going to go to G-ERTI." He spoke firmly, with confidence. 

"Martin, I-"

The use of Martin's name, still causing a flutter of pleasure, would not dissuade him.

"We have to go. Can't you see?"

Arthur stared down at him with eyes full of fear, but the longer he stared into Martin's, the closer he was to understanding. After a moment, he realised what Martin was saying was true; he could avoid it no longer.

"Yes. We…have to go."

 

Martin ensured that Arthur was wrapped up tightly, fussing over his layers like an old hen until Arthur lifted him up and kissed him. It was a habit of Arthur to spring surprise kisses on Martin, a habit which Martin wondered if he would cease when they got back to working on G-ERTI as Douglas would surely tease them mercilessly about it. Then again, a good long kiss form Arthur would probably shut Douglas up, so it was probably worth it. They made their way out of Martin's little flat, down the stairs, the thud of their footsteps ringing throughout he quiet house ominously. When they reached the door, Martin took Arthur's gloved hand again.

"Now, I think we should both take a nice deep breath. That's it. Right, one, two, three-"

He opened the door, and they were both hit with a blast of icy air but Martin marched determinedly onwards with Arthur reluctantly in tow. He knew that he wouldn't be able to drag Arthur if he rooted himself to the spot, but after a slight hesitation Arthur followed him. He could hear Arthur's breath becoming haggard, see the puffs of his breath as they fogged up the air. He put an arm around him.

"Come on, let's go faster. Say it after me- I'm not alone."

"I'm n-not alone."

"That's great, you're doing great. Now, through the gate."

Arthur seemed to be having a difficulty getting through the gate, and when Martin looked up he saw why: Arthur had his eyes closed.

"Arthur? You need to open your eyes. Please, we have to do this."

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur opened his eyes and took in the pure snow on the ground, dusting the trees, falling from the sky in fluffy tufts. He sighed.

"Remember when the snow was beautiful?"

The pure sadness in his voice cut through Martin, and he stared around at the glittering white. It had been beautiful once upon a time, before snow became synonymous with danger, with death. But no, as Martin looked around he realised something. It _was_ beautiful; they were simply projecting a fear onto an object which didn't deserve it. They might as well fear G-ERTI because they had crashed, but here they were going to greet her with only happiness and friendship in their hearts. Their perception of the snow had become mulched up, and they had to fix it.

"It _is_ beautiful, Arthur. We just forgot it was."

He let Arthur ponder this for a while as they plodded through the white, their footsteps crunching noisily. Martin began pointing things out, to encourage Arthur to resume his original enthusiasm for the snow,

"Did you see that blackbird? Look- its prints are over here!"

"I think someone's tried to make a snowman over here, shame its face is a bit wonky." 

"Do you reckon if we hid snowballs in our pockets we could throw them at Douglas before they melted?"

Arthur remained quiet, and Martin wondered if he was fighting a losing battle. But then, out of the blue,

"Martin, what do worms do when it snows?"

"Eh?"

"Do they go to sleep? What will the birds have to eat?"

"Yeah, it think they just go underground. Er-"

"Oh! Oh dear, I wonder if the birds get hungry? I've never really wondered! Maybe we should get some bread and feed the poor birds when we come back home?"

Bolstered by Arthur's sudden willingness to talk and flushing with pleasure that Arthur had referred to his flat as 'home', they started a healthy debate, wondering if it would be worth opening a sort of winter cafe for birds. Martin noticed Arthur's fear begin to lessen, not to eradicate completely, but to fade away as joy overtook his sadness. It had been a good idea to come out into the snow, as if they had remained inside then their fear would have grown and grown, fed by their own minds twisting the situation into something worse, something painful. Now, as they nattered through the snow they saw it for what it was; it was simply snow, nothing more. Nothing to be feared, something to enjoy. When they walked under a snow laden tree, a bird lifted off which caused a fine smattering of it to fall down onto Martin's head, causing Martin to shout,"Bloody hell!" while Arthur collapsed into a fit of giggles.

"You- you're wearing a _snow hat."_

 _"_ Oh, very funny. It had to happen to me, not anyone else, but _me_." 

He reached to shake the snow off with his hand, but Arthur surprised him by reaching out and doing it for him. Martin froze as he realised that Arthur's hand was ungloved, almost caressing the snow. He had a thoughtful expression on his face as he handled it, letting the small handful of it fall to the ground when his hand started to become a little cold. He looked at Martin.

"Huh. It _is_ only snow." He grinned. "How silly." 

And Martin knew he was talking about their fear, how foolish it had been and how simple the snow really was.

 

***

 

 

When they finally reached the airfield, their faces were ruddy from the cold, their noses were streaming and they were so utterly _happy._ Douglas and Carolyn stood there in apprehension, wondering if they should have picked them up, but Douglas had said that it was probably time for Martin and Arthur to get used to the snow. And, as usual, he knew he had been right as the giggling two plodded into the airfield, looking worlds away from the frightened two that had left the hospital. He pretended to sniff at their arrival, at their abundant cheeriness.

"How revolting."

"Good morning to you too, Douglas. If you use that tone again, I'll be forced to give you a _snow hat._ "

Arthur giggled more at this, but Douglas raised an eyebrow in mock-horror.

"Dear lord, if this snow hat's going to be anything like the monstrous contraption you usually wear I will be crushed in an avalanche. Could you live with being a murderer, Martin?"

He laughed at the muttered, "I wouldn't mind if it was you." as Martin strode past. Soon, they were all assembled in front of G-ERTI, hardly believing that she was back home. She was covered in a fine layer of snow, but didn't look as desolate as she had been in Oymyakon and Arthur stared at her familiar shape in utter ecstasy, just so incredibly glad that they had managed to bring her back, fixed no less. They stayed for a while until it became too cold to stand there doing nothing, but their eagerness to see the familiar plane had been sated. Douglas drove them back to Martin's, promising that he would come and pick them up later; they were going to have one last movie night at Arthur and Carolyn's before they went back to work. But Martin and Arthur had asked to be dropped back at Martin's for a few hours, and the other two knew not to ask why, as Arthur was sometimes too ready with the truth. 

 

They said goodbye for the moment, and soon they were in Martin's flat, their clothes slightly damp from the melted snow. Martin gave Arthur a towel to dry himself off with, throwing him a shirt that he had left behind on a different day. The small flat was littered with odd possessions of Arthur's, a few books, some clothes, somehow a toy aeroplane or two. Martin wondered why he left them, but it felt good to have a little bit of Arthur at his flat, a little reminder of the ray of sunshine in his life. He ruffled Arthur's damp hair with the towel, then went into his kitchen to prepare them both a hot drink; Arthur had often sneaked food into Martin's kitchen and it was stocked with treats, from crisps to marshmallows. He made them both a hot chocolate, and Arthur smiled at the drink his mother used to make him when he used to play out in the snow. Martin had been stood next to him sipping his drink, and Arthur drew him onto his lap, carefully so that he drink didn't spill. He burrowed his face into Martin's back.

"My little Skip."

It should have felt like an insult, an affront, but Martin knew full well that he was Arthur's Skip. He had always been, it had just taken a while for him to realise that. 

"My lovely Arthur." 

And they both sat there, looking out of the window at the rapidly darkening sky, at the softly falling snowflakes which had once held such a threat. But they were no longer frightened, and the sweet taste of the hot chocolate on their lips and the warmth of the room and the feel of each other drove any bad thoughts away. It had taken a while, but they were no longer afraid. They were not alone. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I need to credit the wonderful John Finnemore for creating such an excellent array of characters- sorry I twist them into such sad situations! I also need to credit the band 'Of Monsters and Men', as the title of this fanfic comes from their song 'Yellow Light'. The end of that songs reminds me of Arthur and Martin running for each other through the snow. 
> 
> I will probably go back through this story at some point and edit bits, spellcheck, that sort of thing, and although I know I made a few silly mistakes with this story but I am after all learning more with each one I write :)
> 
> So, thanks again, and I hope for you to be as happy as Arthur and Martin eventually were!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this, but I'm not going to be ages, I promise! Procrastination through writing fics is a very rewarding kind!
> 
>  
> 
> NOTE: When I have completed this fic, I intend to comb through it and sort out all of the spelling mistakes etc, I've just been a bit strapped for time recently and too lazy. Sorry about them, they irritate me no end!


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